


The Heart of Lonesome Sky

by heartsdesire456



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Romance, Western, mail-order spouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brendon Urie arrives at Rusty Creek, a ranch town so small the saloon doesn't even have a name, all he knows is that the man he was sent to marry was named Spencer Smith. At first glance, Brendon can't understand why a man as handsome and well established as Spencer Smith would need a mail-order groom when he should have been able to get any eligible man or woman in Rusty Creek. Through awkwardness, acceptance, and eventually belonging, Brendon has a chance to eventually learn the heart of the man who brought him to Lonesome Sky ranch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of Lonesome Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Period appropriate racism. Suspencion of belief for same-sex marriage being normal.
> 
> I have wanted to write a western for SO long, you guys. I never had an idea but I WANTED to write one. When I started this story, I pretty much just haven't stopped. It's the first fic in a long time that just took me and ran with me like I used to have happen quite often. This story has elements I didn't LOVE, such as the fact there isn't at least one more romantic scene, but as far as I'm concerned, I am MONUMENTALLY happy with this one. SUCH a good feeling to finally be sharing it with you guys!
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/957616.html)

When Brendon stumbled down the steps from the train, he had no idea what would be waiting for him. He had a piece of paper with a name and one steamer trunk with his meager belongings, mostly clothes, in it. The porter carried his trunk off the baggage car and placed it on the platform. Brendon thanked him and dragged it into the shade. He plopped down on top of it after he realized there wasn’t anybody there yet. He checked his pocket watch, cringing when the case wobbled alarming, only to see he wasn’t early as he has suspected, rather he was a few minutes late. As Brendon sat and looked around, he started to worry that he had been forgotten. Or worse, he wasn’t wanted anymore and would be left abandoned on his own.

As Brendon waited, he thought of exactly where his life had taken him. As the youngest child of a large family, Brendon had never _really_ had that many responsibilities in his lifetime. At twenty years old with two older brothers and four older sisters, Brendon was uncle to nearly a dozen children. He was the only child left unmarried and he had almost expected to stay that way. However, as his parents grew older, his friends all got married and started families, and the number of single people his age in their social circle dwindled, Brendon’s parents began to really urge him to find a wife or husband. However, when he reached the age of twenty still unattached after four failed attempts at courting his parents began to grow desperate. 

The reason Brendon failed at courting someone was that he tended to annoy people. He either got over excited, grew nervous and began to babble, or became unsure of himself and got quiet and withdrew. It was only out of a stroke of luck that one afternoon, while helping some people do the dishes after a church social, Brendon saw a flyer on the wall in the social hall advertising for men seeking spouses out west on the Frontier. At first, Brendon thought nothing of the flyer, only to hear it brought up that one of the girls he’d grown up with had answered an advertisement for a wife and had recently written home about how happy she was to run her own home and how kind her husband was to her as he was grateful just to have a companion.

When Brendon suggested to his mother he should reply to one of the advertisements, at first she had seemed reluctant, afraid to send her youngest child off out west into the wild, lawless plains. After talking it over with Brendon’s father, however, they eventually agreed that it may be the best option for Brendon if he ever hoped to marry at all.

Brendon had signed himself up for a program in which he and his prospective spouse would exchange at least three letters each to be sure they weren’t completely incompatible before any decisions were made. The man who answered the advertisement hadn’t included a photo of himself, so Brendon did worry he might be ugly, but he had seemed nice enough. He was a young man, only a few years older than Brendon, whose father had died unexpectedly, leaving him in charge of caring for his widowed mother and his two younger sisters, as well as taking over the family ranch. When Brendon had heard the name of the town- Rusty Creek- he hadn’t exactly managed to muster any enthusiasm, but the man was young, established, needed someone, and had no time to look for better prospects than Brendon. He had accepted the man’s offer after their letters of correspondence and was immediately supplied with a train ticket to Rusty Creek, where his groom awaited him.

As Brendon looked around the dusty, deserted platform, he had to mentally amend the statement: _Where his groom was supposed to be awaiting him._  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon had no idea how long he had been waiting, not a soul coming through, when a woman came from the passageway out to the street right beside him, looked around, and then smiled when her eyes landed on him. “You must be Mr. Urie,” she said and Brendon blinked, then rushed to stand up.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to her politely. She was a pretty woman, he decided. She was older than him. The lines around her eyes showed her age, as did a little gray in her red hair that fell down from her bonnet. She was wearing a demure yet clean and neat dress made or a dull brown and white flower patterned material and clean yet clearly patched gloves on her hands. He looked at her expectantly and she smiled at his confused look.

“My name is Ginger Smith,” she introduced herself. “My son is Spencer Smith,” she said and Brendon blinked.

“Oh, hello, ma’am,” he said quickly. “I’m Brendon Urie.”

She nodded. “I do apologize for the wait. My son was meant to be waiting for you when the train arrived but a bull took down a fence and the cows were getting out so he and the boys working for us had to round up the cattle and fix the fence. He just couldn’t get away.” She looked at him. “You are a handsome boy,” she said and Brendon blushed, ducking his head.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled and she smiled.

“Alright, come with me, Mr. Urie,” she said, and Brendon scrambled to grab his trunk to drag along behind him as he scurried after her. When they came out on the street, Brendon was taken aback by how _small_ the town was. There were no buildings with more than two floors, the street was dirt instead of bricks or stones, and he could see signs that read _what_ the building was, not _which one_ of them it was. Instead of the name of the saloon, it simply read ‘Saloon’. The general store didn’t have a family name, it just said ‘General Store’. Brendon knew when he came in that it would be a small town, but to not even have a name for the general store was surprising.

When Mrs. Smith climbed up onto a wagon, not into a carriage, Brendon had to reevaluate what ‘established’ really meant. He loaded his trunk up and then jumped up beside Mrs. Smith, hanging on as she whistled at the mules pulling the wagon, spurring them into motion. Brendon looked around, noticing several sets of eyes on him as they started off, and wondered what his life was going to be like in Rusty Creek.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick heard a chuckle from the window and looked up to see the only other person hired to work at his saloon looking out at something. “What’s going on?” he called out and Travis turned back with an amused smile. 

“City boy, by the looks of him. Mrs. Smith is riding past coming from the train station with this man in a pressed white shirt. It’ll be red by the time he gets wherever she’s taking him,” he said, coming back from the window.

Patrick hummed. “Give it ten minutes and Pete Wentz will be over with the newest gossip,” he said and Travis smiled, nodding.

“Always does get the gossip before anybody else. I guess nobody expects to be overheard at the general store, huh?” he asked, picking up a few glasses patrons had left on their table to bring over to the bar. “Either that or they say things where Wentz can hear them just so that everybody else will know.”

Patrick thanked him when he took the glasses. “I figure people talk on purpose. Always want to spread the good gossip.”

Travis paused, scuffing his toe on the uneven boards before absently rubbing at a burn from a cigar on the polished wood of the bar. “Maybe this’ll be good enough to take the focus off of me,” he mumbled to himself, deep in thought.

Patrick sighed and closed his eyes, shoulders tensing as he wiped the glass in his hands, sparing a glance at the tall man’s stormy expression. He didn’t speak, but he knew even the silence wasn’t as heavy as his heart as he looked at the frown that wrinkled Travis’s brow. 

As Travis had said, a few minutes later, the swinging doors flew open and Pete Wentz, the owner of the town’s general store, ran in, grinning brightly. “Patrick! Patrick, my friend, guess what news I’ve got!” Pete burst out, earning an amused look from Patrick. Travis chuckled under his breath but went back into the back room to draw less attention to himself, since there were no patrons in to distract Wentz.

“I’m assuming it’s about the young man in fancy clothes?” Patrick asked, and Pete nodded excitedly.

“According to Mikey Way, Spencer Smith sent off for a mail-order husband!” he said brightly and Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Spencer Smith bought a mail-order husband?” he asked suspiciously and Pete grinned.

“I know, right? Spencer Smith is an attractive one, that’s for sure. I’m surprised he had to send away for somebody when he could’ve had any single person in this town.” Pete shrugged, rapping his knuckles on the bar. “You could’ve married him,” he suggested and Patrick shot him a look.

“I’m not marrying a rancher. I’m no farmer. Besides, I have my own business, no reason to get married at all.” Patrick went to grab a bottle off the shelf and a glass, turning it over to pour a drink. “Here, one on the house if you’ll take your gossip somewhere else,” Patrick said sliding the glass towards Pete.

Pete smirked. “I know why you don’t wanna get married, Patrick Stump, and it sure as hell isn’t your business,” he said, eyes cutting towards the back room before he took his drink and downed it. Patrick narrowed his eyes and Pete grinned. “Don’t worry, everybody suspects it but nobody’s got the guts to say it out loud,’ he said, earning a darker look from Patrick as he handed him the glass. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stump.”

Patrick shook his head. “Afternoon, Pete,” Patrick replied, watching as Pete headed out. As he took the glass to wash, he couldn’t help glancing at the store room where Pete had looked. Patrick couldn’t say Pete was a bad friend, everybody thought the same if not worse than Pete Wentz. Pete Wentz was just the only one who had no problems telling his mind. Patrick hated hearing it, but he knew gossip wasn’t going to be avoided in a small town.

That was the problem with small towns. Everybody knew everybody’s business and nobody kept their secrets for very long because of it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer wiped at his forehead and sighed, standing straight to relax his back after carrying a bundle of boards. They had been repairing the fence all afternoon, ever since one of Spencer’s prize bulls took an offence to the line and decided to ram right through the boards.

In multiple places.

“You know, he’s lucky you need him for the stud fees.” Spencer looked up, having missed the sound of anybody else walking up, to see his long-time friend, Ryan Ross. Ryan’s ranch bordered the Smith’s ranch, Lonesome Sky Ranch. His father had died when Ryan was just eighteen, leaving him with a ranch to run all on his own. In the end, Ryan had managed well enough, though he had very little interest in the cattle business. He mostly made do with turning over enough cattle to keep the ranch going, employing only two hands. He and Spencer had grown up together, the sons of ranchers in a small town with few other children their age. Spencer could easily say Ryan was his closest friend, almost like a brother.

Spencer pushed the sweat-damp hair out of his eyes and smiled as he stood. “Ryan Ross, shocked to see you outside this late in the afternoon. I thought you might wilt in the sun, you delicate flower,” he teased, earning laughs from his three farmhands, who were working on getting the last boards nailed back in place.

Ryan hummed, crossing his arms. “And I thought you had somewhere to be today.”

Spencer frowned, tipping his hat up some. “What do you mean?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “It’s Tuesday,” he said and Spencer frowned in confusion before suddenly his eyes widened as he was visibly struck with realization.

“Damn!” Spencer cursed, looking around. “Ah hell, where’s a watch? What time is it-“

Ryan laughed but shook his head. “Nah, I passed your mama going into town. She realized you weren’t coming back in early enough to go to the train station so she went,” he said and Spencer groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes.

“Great, wonderful message to send the boy who up and left his life to come marry my sorry ass. ‘Sorry, I _forgot about you_ ’,” he groused, much to Ryan and the ranch hands’ amusement.

Ryan shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re going through with this.”

One of Spencer’s hands- Frank Iero- let out a laugh damn near a giggle. “He’s right, boss. You’re a decent looking man and you have an established ranch. Hell, almost anybody would be proud to marry you. Why you gone and sent off for one?” he asked pointedly.

Spencer sighed. “I don’t have time to get to know somebody. I don’t have the free time to court anyone now that Pa died. My mama may not be an old woman, but with the girls getting to the age they are, she needs somebody around to help her look after them and I can’t do that anymore. I’ve got to run the ranch on my own,” he explained simply. “And besides, an unmarried man trying to run a ranch just doesn’t come across as a man who has his responsibilities in place. It would’ve looked better if I had a wife and some kids, but I’ll settle for a husband.”

Ryan blew his hair out of his eyes. “You sure about this, Spencer? I mean, he might be here, but you aren’t married yet. You can still back out. You don’t even know this man, you haven’t met him, you barely wrote him, and you’re really prepared to sign on to spend the rest of your life with him?” he asked skeptically.

Spencer shrugged. “I’ve met every person in this town that’s marrying age. None of them really interested me. What else can I do? And he seems nice enough, didn’t say anything too terribly off-putting. He needed this as much as me for some reason, so why not help somebody else out?”

Gabe, one of the other hands, dropped his hammer after he finished and wiped his face off with his bandana as he turned to look at the ones talking. “Gotta say, Smith, sounds like he’s ugly,” he said and Frank snorted.

“Oh yeah, has to be. There’s no shortage of people out east. No small town is too far from another. If he wasn’t ugly, he’d have better prospects than to answer an ad for mail-order brides,” Frank agreed. “Probably deformed or something. Terribly ugly.”

Spencer groaned. “Don’t say something like that. I don’t mind if he isn’t exactly handsome, but some physical deformity would just get him looked at funny all over town. People would stare.”

“Boss.” Spencer turned and saw his third hand, Ray, nodding back towards the house, out across the pasture. “Looks like you can go see for yourself,” he said and everybody looked up just in time to see a wagon coming down the trail, headed for the house.

Spencer’s stomach flipped. “Oh hell, I wanted to get back earlier enough to wash up!” He looked down at himself and groaned. “This is about as bad as I could get and I’m gonna walk in the house and meet the man I’m meant to marry.”

Ryan eyed him and gave him a wicked smile. “Could be worse, at least you aren’t covered in horse shit.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As Brendon climbed down off the wagon, he went for his trunk but Mrs. Smith called his name. “Brendon, leave that. I’ll get one of the others to get it. You come on inside,” she said and Brendon nodded, following her up onto the porch.

The house they had driven up to was far from anything in sight. It was a good forty minutes wagon ride outside of town, surrounded by miles and miles of open land, nothing but a few mesquites and other desert brush dotting the landscape. The house itself was actually a nice house, judging it from the outside. It was a two story farm house with a porch stretching the length of the front. It was painted white with black shutters, making it look a lot nicer than most of the houses they had passed on their way out of town with their bare wood and lack of trim. 

As they walked up the steps onto the porch, Brendon heard a bark behind him and nails on the boards just in time to warn him before a little brown and white dog leapt on his legs. Mrs. Smith tutted. “Skip, get off him!” 

Brendon smiled. “No, it’s fine.” He squatted down and smiled, petting the dog. “Hey boy,” he said, making a face when the dog licked him. “Alright, alright, I love you too, I don’t need kisses,” he said, laughing as he pushed the dog away gently and stood up. He followed Mrs. Smith, who opened the door, giving him an amused smile as she let the dog in ahead of them.

“You like dogs?” she asked and Brendon nodded.

“We never had one but I always thought they would be great friends. We had a cat, but it died when I was little,” he said, surprised when they walked into a surprisingly nicely decorated hall with a nice carpet on the floor, flowers on the table by the stairs, and equally nice furnishings in the parlor to the left.

Mrs. Smith took off her bonnet and started down the hall. “Come with me, you must be hungry,” she said and he followed her down the hall. There was a back door at the other end of the hall, but just to the left of that was a door into the kitchen. It was a large kitchen with pots and pans hanging over a big stove. There was a pantry, some cabinets, and a sink with copper taps nestled into the wall. “We’re lucky we’ve got a good well. We were able to get full plumbing in the house,” Mrs. Smith explained with a smile. “My late husband and I built this house with our own hands, so I’m pretty proud of the look on your face right now,” she said and he smiled shyly.

“This is a big house,” he noted and she nodded for him to sit at the kitchen table as she went to get a kettle to put on. “May I?” he asked and she looked up to see him nodding at the basket of bread in the center of the table.

“Oh yes,” she said, nodding for him to grab a biscuit. He took one and smiled thankfully, pulling off a chunk with a hungry look. “The girls should’ve been starting supper already,” she said and Brendon nodded.

“You have daughters, right?” he asked and she chuckled.

“Two girls and a son.” She tilted her head. “And two of the boys who work the ranch live with us. The other one has a home and a family of his own. We need a big house for seven people,” she said and Brendon smiled.

“Our house wasn’t nearly this big and there were ten of us. Seven kids, my parents, and my grandpa.” He shrugged. “I’ve never been in a house this big.”

Mrs. Smith smiled distantly. “Well, we planned on having more children than we did so we wanted a big house. Ended up with a lot less than we hoped for. I would’ve loved seven children.”

Brendon didn’t know how to respond without saying something stupid, so he stayed silent. 

Laughter and running alerted Brendon to the presence of more female voices. He looked up just in time to see two girls running in, one chasing the other. Their mother cleared her throat as the two began running around the table, stopping them. Brendon took them in as soon as they stopped and couldn’t help but note that they looked the exact same. They were tall for their age, nearly as tall as Brendon though he was sure his intended had written in the letter that his sisters were young girls. Both had long, golden hair pulled back in braids hanging down their backs, blue eyes, and freckles across their cheeks. They were very pretty girls to have grown up in the desert, Brendon assessed. 

One of them noticed him and gasped. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone had came!” she said, then bounced over to sit down beside Brendon. “Hi, I’m Crystal.”

To Brendon’s other side, the second girl took a seat and smiled an identical smile to her sister. “I’m Jackie, you’re the man our brother bought!”

Both girls giggled and Brendon felt his cheeks blushing. “He didn’t _buy_ me- I- it’s a matter where- well, an arrangement, rather, in which-“

Mrs. Smith put her hands on her hips. “Girls,” she said and they both grew quiet, though their faces betrayed their amusement. “Don’t tease Mr. Urie. He’s had a long journey- which is the _only_ thing your brother paid for, the rest is just an arrangement- and he doesn’t need you badgering him. He is not a purchase, he is a person,” she said and Brendon gave her a small smile of thanks.

Jackie- even if he couldn’t tell them apart, he did remember which was sitting where- lowered her voice. “‘Arrangement’ is the same word the saloon women over in Ore Springs use,” she said to her sister, who snickered.

Brendon felt his cheeks heating up. “I am _not_ a- a-“ He made a face. “Lady of the night or something!” he defended.

“GIRLS!” Mrs. Smith snapped, looking angry. “Did you accuse Mr. Urie of _prostitution_?!” she demanded.

“Jackie said-“

“I didn’t start it-“

The girls’ denials were interrupted by the sound of the back door opening and then swinging shut again. The sound of boots coming caught their attention just before the owner of said boots entered the kitchen. “Mother?” the man called as he rounded the corner. Brendon’s eyes widened slightly and he bit his lip to fight a gasp. 

The man, who could only be Spencer Smith, was absolutely one of the most handsome men Brendon’s eyes had ever beheld. He was a fairly tall, broad man with wide shoulders and long legs. His neat, short beard made his surprisingly soft, round face much more masculine than his youthfully full cheeks might otherwise. His eyes were bluer than even his sisters, so blue that they caught the light from the window and rivaled the sky for its color, as if his long lashes had swept up some of the sky before he walked in the house. His cheeks, surprisingly pale for his outdoor lifestyle, were dotted with a light brushing of freckles, less than his sisters, but still managed to fit surprisingly well with his other features.

All in all, Brendon was absolutely at a loss as to why such a handsome, young, established man could have possibly needed to make an arrangement with a stranger for marriage. With his looks, his house, and a supposedly successful ranch, Brendon was almost positive he could’ve had anybody in the town of marrying age. He certainly had to worry that he wouldn’t live up to Mr. Smith’s standards. 

“Spencer!” Crystal cried brightly. “Your handsome new purchase is here-“

Mrs. Smith let out a frustrated noise. “Brendon is _not_ a prostitute!” she cried and Brendon just ducked his eyes when Mr. Smith turned to look at him. He could feel his cheeks burning of embarrassment. “Girls, get over here and help me with supper. Now.” She looked at Spencer. “Spencer, dear, how about you and Mr. Urie go for a walk.”

Spencer clear his throat awkwardly. “Mr. Urie?” he asked and Brendon looked up, smiling a wan smile when he saw his cheeks were spotted pink just like Brendon’s. 

“Yes, of course,” Brendon said, standing quickly. He came around the table and Mr. Smith stepped back with a gesture for Brendon to go first. When they got outside on the back porch, Brendon stood awkwardly by the porch rail as Mr. Smith fidgeted with his hat in his hands. “Um, hello,” Brendon settled on finally.

Mr. Smith let out a weak chuckle. “Hello,” he replied, then ruffled his hair, pushing it out of his somewhat dirty face. “I apologize for my absence today. And for my state,” he said, looking at his filthy hands with a cringe. “I’m… things came up.”

Brendon nodded. “Your mother told me as much. It’s okay, I understand, Mr. Smith.”

He looked up, blue eyes finally meeting Brendon’s. “Please, call me Spencer. If we’re to be married, I really don’t think formality is necessary.”

Brendon nodded, feeling sheepish. “Then call me Brendon, Spencer.” When Spencer smiled at him, Brendon felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Spencer’s smile was so beautiful it made Brendon somewhat give in to his nerves and forget himself. “Why did you send for me?” he asked, then flushed. “I mean!” He cringed, leaning into the rail. “Why did you need to send away East for a husband when you have such a large house and- and a ranch well off enough to pay for three workers like your mother said?” he asked, then ducked his eyes. “And, forgive me for being so forward, but you are very handsome,” he said and Spencer gave him an amused smile.

“Well, thank you, I guess?” He sighed. “I just…” He looked out at the sun, which was setting in the west behind the hills in the distance. “I don’t have time to convince anybody here to marry me.”

“But _how_?” Brendon asked softly. “Mr-“ he stopped when he saw Spencer shoot him a look. “Spencer,” he corrected. “I fully expected to find a somewhat ugly man with a small dirt-floor, two room house or something. In a town like this, there can’t be very many men with a home as nice as this, or a youthful face, if we’re honest,” he said and Spencer let out a sad laugh.

“Nobody I could stand marrying,” he said honestly. “A stranger is better than any of the people here. I grew up with every person in this town. I have some nice friends, but I couldn’t marry any of them and I need a spouse _now_. The first year handling Lonesome Sky Ranch on my own, I will already have trouble getting any respect. I may as well help myself a little and be a married man.” He looked at Brendon uneasily. “I could always ask the same of you. You clearly aren’t tragically disfigured,” he said and Brendon could swear Spencer was mocking him, though his voice held no malice. “Why did you offer yourself up for marriage to a stranger?”

Brendon shrugged. “It seemed like the best option.”

“And do you still feel that way?” Spencer asked. “If you change your mind, I’ll send you home. If not, we should be able to be married tomorrow.”

Brendon looked out at the range and nodded, taking a steeling breath. “I stand by my decisions.”

“Good. I do too,” Spencer said simply. After a short and terribly awkward silence Spencer shifted his weight and made an abortive gesture. “I should get washed up. Call in the boys. All of that,” he said with a vague nod.

Brendon nodded. “I- I’ll go help your mother,” he answered inelegantly. Spencer gave him one more half-clumsy nod before turning on his heel to head off the side of the porch rather than back into the house. Brendon took a breath for strength and reminded himself that this was the choice he had made before he turned and headed inside to help Mrs. Smith and her daughters with supper.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon was quiet as he helped Mrs. Smith set the table, hoping not to catch the attention of the three men who had taken seats at the table with the girls, laughing and talking with them. He knew he’d have to speak to them all eventually but for now he hoped to be as unobtrusive as possible.

When Mr. Smith- _Spencer_ , Brendon’s mind corrected- came back, cleaned up and in different clothes, he sat down beside his sister and next to a thin man, who sat at the end of the table. “Brendon.” Brendon looked up and Mrs. Smith nodded. “Go sit,” she said, gesturing to the empty chair on the thin man’s other side. 

Brendon took a breath then bravely walked over and sat. Immediately, all eyes were on him, the conversation stopping. He nodded and offered them all a nervous smile. “Hello.”

Mrs. Smith came over and sat down the last bowls before taking her seat at the head of the table. “Everybody, this is Mr. Brendon Urie. I expect you all to treat him well, he’s had a long journey,” she said and Brendon smiled down at his lap. He already liked the matron of the family.

“Yeah, Spencer bought him-“

Spencer turned to glare at his sister. “Jackie, not that again. Nobody bought anybody,” he argued, earning a round of giggles from the girls. He sighed and shook his head. “Brendon, you’ve met my sisters already, but the one beside you is Frank Iero and the one beside him is Gabe Saporta. They’re the ranch hands who live with us,” he explained and Brendon nodded to the two down the table to his right. “And this is my friend Ryan Ross, who owns the ranch next to Lonesome Sky. He just likes to come for supper because he can’t cook,” he said with a teasing smile at the man to Brendon’s left, sat at the end. 

Mr. Ross rolled his eyes. “I just know your mama likes me better than you, is all,” he countered flatly. “It’s nice to meet you, Brendon,” he said and Brendon smiled, nodding.

“And you, Mr. Ross,” he said and the man cringed.

“Ryan, please,” he said and Spencer gave Brendon a small smile. 

“Call everybody by their names, please. There’s no reason to call us all formal things, this is your home now, too,” he said and Brendon nodded in understanding. 

“So Brendon, where are you from?” Ryan asked, looking him over in a way that made Brendon feel as if he was being judged.

Brendon cleared his throat. “Delaware. The northern end of Delaware,” he answered obligingly. 

One of the girls- Brendon wasn’t sure which- perked up. “Near the ocean, right?” she asked and Brendon nodded.

“Yes, although really where I come from, it’s the bay, not the actual Atlantic. A little further North the waterway was narrow so you could see New Jersey on a clear day,” he answered and the girl smiled brightly

“What’s the ocean like?!” she asked excitedly and Brendon blinked.

“Um… a lot of water?” he tried, earning a snicker from his left. “It’s… cool water and there is sand and there’s a lot of waves, sometimes. There’s a lot of fog in the mornings sometimes.” Both girls eyes widened and Brendon sent a confused look around the table. 

Mrs. Smith caught his look and smiled. “It’s very rare that there’s fog around here. They’ve barely seen fog before.”

“I can swim but Jackie can’t,” one of the girls said to Brendon, who couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s glare.

“It isn’t so hard,” he said and Jackie huffed.

“Spencer tried to drown me, I’m not going near water again,” she argued, glaring at her sister and then poking her tongue out at her brother.

Spencer shook his head and turned to look at Brendon. “We went riding and exploring a few years ago up in the hills,” he explained. “We went swimming in the river and I pushed her in and she didn’t swim like Crystal,” he explained and Brendon couldn’t help but grin, turning to the girls.

“Don’t feel so bad, my brother threw me in the first time, too,” he confided, feeling a bit of relief when the girls both smiled. He didn’t want anybody to hate him, so he hoped their smiles were a sign they liked him well enough.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon came back from washing up and found only Spencer sitting in front of the fire in the parlor. “Um, where should I sleep?” he asked, wincing inwardly at how awkward he sounded.

Spencer startled at his voice, jumping to his feet. “Oh!” He made a face. “Um, upstairs, the one on the left is our room,” he said, visibly tensing as he said ‘our room’. “I’ll sleep down here tonight,” he said quickly and Brendon frowned.

“I know it isn’t proper, but I can’t actually run you out of your own bed. I can sleep down here, it’s no problem,” Brendon argued and Spencer shook his head

“No, no, you’re the one who came a long way and for now you’re our guest,” he said, then offered him a small smile. “Really, Brendon, don’t worry.”

Brendon sighed. “Alright.” He offered Spencer a nod. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded back, hands in his pockets. “Goodnight, Brendon.”

As Brendon headed upstairs, he couldn’t help but feel bad for running Spencer out of his room for the night. He had worked all day, Brendon had just sat on a train. When he got to the top of the stairs, he opened the door to the left and paused to look around the room. The pretty blue curtains suggested to him that at some point, a woman had lived in that room. The room was fairly large, with a bureau and a wardrobe, a writing table, and a mirror. Brendon saw his trunk sitting at the foot of the bed and went to change, figuring he’d unpack tomorrow.

As he crawled into the surprisingly soft, comfortable bed, he couldn’t help but fight back a wave of nervousness as he remembered he wouldn’t be alone in it the following night.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Getting married was very surreal. Brendon had never really seem such a small wedding, but he also knew if his family had been there, it wouldn’t have been that small. He and Spencer stood in front of the preacher while Spencer’s mother, sisters, friend, all three of his ranch hands, and the married one’s wife all sat in the front pews. Brendon could hardly believe he was _actually_ doing what he was doing, but he hoped that he was making the right choices with his life.

When the preacher pronounced them married, he was barely aware he’d actually said ‘I do’, he had been so lost in his musings. “You may kiss,” the old man said with a genial smile, and Brendon felt his cheeks heating slightly as he looked up at Spencer, who looked equally embarrassed as he leaned in to kiss Brendon.

As they linked hands and walked down the aisle, it struck Brendon that from now on, he would be living his life as Brendon Smith, husband of a cattle rancher at Lonesome Sky Ranch.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As soon as Pete saw Frank Iero leaving the Post Office, he left his store in the hands of his shop keeper and headed down the street, nodding to those he passed on the boardwalk. He ducked into the Post Office, smiling when he saw his friend Mikey Way sitting at the counter, looking bored. “Mikey! How are you today?” he asked politely.

Mikey looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have any mail.”

Pete scoffed. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t know. Do you know I got my mail from Scott Avery the other week? Not only is his name far from Wentz, but his house is on the other end of town from mine. It’s worse every week, Way,” he accused and Mikey shrugged.

“You get it eventually, though,” he decided placidly.

Pete smirked. “So, Frank Iero just left. I was wondering if he said anything about his boss.”

Mikey shrugged, flipping through some letters. “Just that the man he sent away for came and they got married this morning.”

Pete leaned forward with a devious look. “Yeah, but what about him? Anything… interesting?”

Mikey lifted his eyes and sighed. “His name’s Brendon Smith now, he’s a small, brown haired man, he comes from Delaware, and he seems quiet. Chances are even you would be quiet if you left your family, took a train halfway across the continent, and then married a man you met yesterday.”

Pete sighed. “Damn. I was hoping for some good gossip.”

Mikey hummed. “Gerard!” he shouted, startling Pete.

A weak cough sounded and Mikey’s brother came in from the back. “What? I’m sorting mail!”

Mikey nodded at Pete. “Pete’s looking for some new gossip. Spencer Smith’s mail-ordered husband apparently isn’t interesting without details.” Gerard opened his mouth and started to speak, only to have their conversation interrupted by the bell over the door tinkling to announce someone’s arrival.

Gerard fixed a smile and nodded. “Evening, how can I help you?” he asked and Pete looked up to see Travis McCoy, Patrick’s worker, coming towards the counter, towering over them all.

“Afternoon, sir,” he said, nodding to Pete and Mikey as well. “Um, Mr. Stump got Mrs. Calhoun’s mail,” he said, offering over a catalogue and some letters. “He asked me to bring them back to you, Mr. Way.”

Gerard took the things and smiled. “Thanks, sorry about that Mikey’s just stupid-“

“I am not stupid,” Mikey said, shoving at his brother as he grabbed the parcels and went to resort them. “Thanks for returning this,” he said and McCoy nodded.

“Yes, sir. Afternoon,” he said, giving them all a nod before turning to walk out again, nearly having to duck under the bell hanging from the door.

Gerard sucked his teeth and shook his head. “The good Lord was not kind to that boy,” he said and Pete scoffed.

“I’d say he was pretty kind. He’s got a job that he gets paid about the same as a white man would and a roof over his head.” Pete shrugged. “Better than most of his kind.”

Gerard shot him a look. “That’s the unkind part, Wentz. ‘His kind’ don’t want nothing to do with him either. You know as well as I do they wouldn’t even give him a job at that negro barber shop over in Laughlin sweeping the floors because he’s not one of them.” 

Pete waved a hand. “Yeah, well as much as I don’t mind the guy, the longer he’s around here, the worse Stump’s reputation gets. I like Patrick, he’s been my friend since we were kids. He doesn’t need the talk going around about him.”

“And what if he doesn’t care?” Gerard challenged. He crossed his arms, leaning on the counter to look at Pete closer. “You know the kind of talk there is about me. I’m divorced. Pretty sure the people out here look down on me just as much for being divorced as they do McCoy for being paid a white man’s wages,” he pointed out.

Pete just gave him a rueful look. “You choose not to care though. Patrick doesn’t need that kind of attention. You’re a post master, everybody needs mail.”

Gerard gestured dismissively. “Patrick Stump runs the only saloon in town. People won’t let reputation get between them and their liquor. Trust me, if he didn’t want the attention, he would’ve hired somebody else.” He shrugged. “Just spread the talk about Smith’s marriage and nobody will care about Patrick and his employee for a while.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
At supper, everybody congratulated Brendon and Spencer and everybody shared a delicious and extravagant meal. Brendon was pleased that he seemed to have been accepted for the most part. It wasn’t until after supper had finished, after they had cleaned up, after Ryan and Ray and his wife had left, after the others had headed to bed, and after he came into the bedroom to find Spencer changed for bed that Brendon suddenly remembered that he had gotten _married_.

Spencer paused with his shirt half buttoned, glancing at Brendon awkwardly as Brendon stood in the doorway a moment before finally making a decision to go to the wardrobe to get his own set of clothes for bed. He wasted no time shucking off his clothes and pulling on sleeping clothes, not turning back around to see if Spencer was looking until he had his shirt mostly buttoned. He was momentarily relieved to see Spencer was staring out the window instead. He bit his lip and glanced down at his hands before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Um, I think-“ His words were interrupted by a yawn that he hadn’t seen coming.

When Brendon’s vision cleared Spencer was looking at him. “You seem tired,” Spencer said and Brendon blinked, wondering how to respond.

“Well… yes, it was a long day,” he said and Spencer seemed to visibly relax.

“I’m very tired as well,” he said quickly and Brendon was hit with a wave of realization as Spencer abruptly turned and walked over to the bed. “We should get to sleep, I need to be up very early.”

Brendon nodded, giving Spencer a tiny, grateful smile. “Yes, I’m sure your mother will want me up early to help her as well,” he agreed, blowing out the lamp on his bedside table as he sat on the bed. He felt the bed dip behind him as Spencer crawled in and he took care not to get too close to Spencer so that he didn’t make him uncomfortable.

They lay side by side for a moment, stiff and uneasy, before Spencer let out a sigh and shifted some. “Goodnight.”

Brendon gave in and relaxed a bit, rolling onto his side to get comfortable. “Goodnight, Spencer.” 

Brendon had never guessed it would be how he would spend his wedding night, but in reality, Brendon was almost glad Spencer had given him an out. The idea of a wedding night made him nervous enough without remembering he had only known his husband a day.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon quickly settled in well at Lonesome Sky. Mrs. Smith quickly took Brendon under her wing, so to speak, and had him helping her out around the house. The girls took to following Brendon around to either ask or show him things all the time. At meal times, Brendon was slowly getting to know the three hands as well, much to his amusement. Frank, Gabe, and Ray were all fairly welcoming to him. Spencer’s friend Ryan came over often enough, though Brendon felt more like he was being studied when he was there.

Spencer was another story altogether. Spencer was nice, he tried at least, but it seemed more like he was unsure of how to behave around Brendon. Brendon could understand that much, but it didn’t stop him from being a little confused as to why Spencer had even wanted to get married if he didn’t even have any intention of speaking with his husband.

“I just don’t think he likes me, sometimes,” Brendon admitted to Frank, who he was helping draw some water into his canteens. “He’s nice, but that’s an observation from seeing him around everybody else. He acts like he forgets I’m here sometimes and he never talks to me. Not directly. He’ll talk to me at supper when everybody else is talking, but we’ve been married two weeks and I’ve never had a conversation with the man.”

Frank just rolled his eyes. “Spencer isn’t the best with new people. He’s kind of shy. He’s alright with business, but he probably doesn’t know where to start with you. Give him time,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“I guess I have no choice, but it’s sure taking a while.” Brendon shrugged, looking down with a small deflation to his demeanor. “I don’t expect much, but it seems like everybody else likes me _other_ than the one I married, Frank.”

Frank slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry too much, he likes you, he just doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to react, I don’t think. Let him get to know you and you’ll see.”

Brendon glanced at Frank with a his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “How will he get to know me if he can’t even strike up a conversation with me?” he asked sadly.

Frank just offered him a smile as he took the last canteen. “Give him time, you’ll see.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“About time you got back.” Spencer looked up to see Gabe holding his hand out demandingly for one of the canteens of water Frank had gone to get. “What took you so long?”

Frank shrugged. “Just talking to Brendon while we filled canteens. Asked him how he felt he was fitting in here.”

Spencer hummed. “And what did he say?” he asked, earning an amused snicker from Frank.

“Thinks he’s fitting in well enough, but that he’s worried you don’t like him,” he said and Ray and Gabe both burst out laughing. Frank chuckled. “Apparently, you’re the only one that doesn’t seem to like him very much because everybody else talks to him but you don’t.”

Spencer frowned. “I talk to him!” he defended and Ray shot him a look. “Well… I do!”

Ray shook his head. “You do, but only when everybody else is talking to him. Don’t ya’ll talk about stuff when you’re alone?” he asked and Spencer thought about it, then winced, ducking his eyes.

“Not really,” he admitted, then sighed. “Damn, I’m no good at this ‘married’ thing.”

Ray slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just try and show him you actually like him, not just ignore him.” 

Gabe walked over and interrupted, taking the canteen right out of Spencer’s hands. “Or maybe you won’t ever work it out, Ray’s biased, he’s got a great relationship with his wife. You married a stranger and he’s right.” He gestured with the canteen. “I bet you don’t even know your husband’s middle name.”

Spencer paused. “Of course I do it’s…” He frowned. “It’s… John,” he said confidently and Frank just shook his head while Ray sighed. Spencer hung his head and groaned. “I am pretty bad of a husband so far, huh?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Frank said, laughing as he put the canteens up so that they could get back to work.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon was hanging Mrs. Smith’s washing on the line for her so since she had did it all by herself while they talked. “I swear, if I never have another apple pie again, I’ll be happy,” Mrs. Smith said, earning a bright laugh from Brendon.

“I can imagine-“

“Mother?” Spencer’s voice called from inside, interrupting Brendon’s reply.

Mrs. Smith sat up straight in her spot sitting on her upturned rinsing bucket. “Out here, Spencer!” she called and Spencer came out the back door. “What did you want?” she asked as he came across the yard.

“Where is everybody? I sent Ray home, but I can’t find Gabe or Frank,” he said and Mrs. Smith laughed.

“I made them take the girls into town. I didn’t want to let them go alone and Brendon and I had to do the washing. Why? You need something?” she asked, standing.

Spencer made a face. “Not you, I’m not asking you to come help,” he said, then turned to Brendon. “Do you think I could borrow Brendon for a little while?” he asked her and she nodded.

“You need help?” Brendon asked, hanging the last of the washing on the line before walking over to Spencer.

Spencer nodded. “Don’t worry, nothing you can’t handle. I mostly just need an extra pair of hands. I sent the others home because I was just riding the fence but I found a spot where the barbed wire came undone. I just need to ride back out and nail it in place again, but I could use a spare set of hands to hold things for me,” he explained.

Brendon nodded. “Um, I don’t ride,” he admitted and Spencer gave him a disbelieving look.

“You don’t ride… a horse?” he asked skeptically.

Brendon rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “No, I don’t. I never had a reason,” he pointed out and Spencer gave him an amused smile.

“Well, I’ll have to teach you, then,” he said, then looked Brendon over. “Get one of my hats and you’ll be ready to go,” he instructed and Brendon nodded, heading inside to get a hat. When he got back outside, hat on his head, he found Spencer waiting beside his horse. 

“Okay, so… how will this work?” Brendon asked, looking at the horse nervously as he edged closer.

Spencer laughed at him, clearly amused. “Don’t be scared, she won’t hurt you.” He climbed up, then looked down at Brendon. “Okay, see the stirrup? Put your foot there and give me your hand. I’ll pull you up behind me,” he said and Brendon gave him a distrusting look but grabbed his hand, looking down to put his foot in the stirrup Spencer’s foot had vacated momentarily. 

“If I fall, you better not laugh,” Brendon said and Spencer smiled, pulling Brendon up when he was ready. “Ah!” Brendon cried when the horse shuffled before he was settled. He grabbed onto Spencer tightly, closing his eyes as he expected to fall off.

“You’re okay, see?” Spencer said, gently grabbing the hand clenched in his shirt. “You’re fine. I just need my stirrup back,” he said and Brendon wiggled his foot free, shifting so that he didn’t feel like he was about to fall off. Spencer smiled. “Just hold on to me, you’ll be fine.”

Brendon glanced at him, shaking his bangs out of his hair as Spencer glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Promise I won’t fall off?” he asked uneasily and Spencer smiled back.

“Definitely not a worry as long as you hang on to me. You have my word,” he promised and Brendon nodded, wrapping his arms around Spencer’s middle. “Okay, we’re moving now,” he said, edging the horse into a walk.

As they rode, Brendon looked around, taking in the sight of the land further away from the house he hadn’t left since they had come home after their wedding. They passed one of the cattle herds, grazing out in the open fields and Brendon realized he hadn’t ever seen a cow up close. “Hey Spencer, are cows usually this big?” he asked and Spencer chuckled.

“Yes, Brendon, at least these kind. Dairy cows can be smaller. Why?” he asked and Brendon shrugged.

“I’ve never seen a cow up close before. I didn’t know they were so big. I guess I’ve only seen dairy cows before at a distance as well,” he answered.

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, they’re really big. They weigh about as much as fifteen of you probably would,” he said and Brendon stared at the creatures as they passed.

“Well, I am little,” he commented and Spencer laughed. “Hey, it isn’t my fault!” Brendon said, rolling his eyes as he gave him a playfully stern look. “I even ate my vegetables as a little boy, it didn’t help.”

Spencer shook his head, smiling. “Could be worse, you could be Frank sized,” he said and Brendon couldn’t hold in a giggle.

“He is very tiny,” he agreed. “I wish I was tall. Jackie and Crystal are nearly as tall as me now and they’re still growing,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’m not the tallest man around, but they are likely to be tall like my father was. They look a lot like him,” Spencer said and Brendon bit his lip at the sad tone in Spencer’s voice.

“You look like your mother,” Brendon offered, hoping to take Spencer’s mind off his father.

Spencer smiled. “My mother is beautiful. I know I might be just seeing her as the woman who gave me my life, but to me, I’ve never seen a woman anywhere near as beautiful as she is. My sisters are pretty girls, but my mother is such a strong, beautiful, incredible woman,” he said fondly and Brendon smiled.

“She is beautiful. She doesn’t look very old at all. My mother is probably much older than your mother, but she looks very old,” he said and Spencer realized he had an opening to get to know more about Brendon.

Spencer cleared his throat. “What is your family like?” he asked and Brendon hummed, seeming to think.

“Well, my mother and father are a lot older than your mother. I’m the youngest of seven children. I’ve got four sisters and two brothers. They’re all married, too. I have a dozen nieces and nephews, so it’s a very large family. My oldest sister is thirty-two. My oldest niece is fourteen, same as your sisters,” he said and Spencer let out an amused sound.

“So you’re only six years older than your oldest niece? Wow,” he said and Brendon laughed.

“Yeah, like I said, my mom had kids for a long time. She had my sister when she was sixteen and had me when she was twenty-eight. She’s forty-eight now,” he said and Spencer shook his head.

“My mother had me when she was seventeen and then had the girls when she was twenty-five, so she’s thirty-nine. Your oldest sister is only a few years younger than my mother,” he recognized and Brendon nodded.

“Why didn’t your mother have more children?” he asked curiously. “She mentioned something about wishing she had more children when I mentioned how the house is so big for so few people,” he explained and Spencer stiffened a little.

“My mother and father planned to have many children,” Spencer said softly, voice a little solemn. “My mother wanted as many children as they could have and my father wanted my mother to have anything she wanted,” he said and Brendon leaned a little closer to see the side of Spencer’s face. “They came to Rusty Creek and built this house with the intentions of filling all of the rooms with children, but I guess ‘as many as they could have’ was just three,” he finished.

Brendon bit his lip. “Did they give up hope?” he asked curiously and Spencer chuckled.

“They never gave up hope for more children, I don’t think. You see, my parents got married when my father was seventeen and my mother was sixteen. They grew up together, they were friends as children. They got married and my mother had me about a year later.” Spencer shrugged. “After that she just… didn’t have any more. I think either my mother or my father one must’ve been barely able to have children, because my mother would talk to me about how I was going to have so many brothers and sisters some day when I was very little. And for me to remember, I couldn’t have been younger than three or four, so that’s three or four years without having a child that they were clearly trying. And then when I was about six or seven, she stopped mentioning it and she stopped sewing quilts for the children she hoped to have.” Spencer smiled over his shoulder at Brendon. “And the a few years later, all of a sudden she started smiling all of the time and my father would smile at her the same way. She started sewing again, and then she was starting to get round, they explained that I was going to have a baby brother or sister.” Spencer chuckled and shook his head in amusement. “I ended up having two of them at one time. I can still remember how happy my mother and father were _all of the time_ when Jackie and Crystal were babies.”

Brendon couldn’t help answering the smile he caught the profile of. His husband was definitely a man with a beautiful smile. “At least they got lucky there,” he said and Spencer nodded.

“Yes, two at once had to be the best surprised to them.” Spencer let out a soft sigh. “I was old enough to be going to school and then playing with the other boys in town and doing chores so I wasn’t with my mother as much to know if she started getting sad to not have even more children, but I doubt she gave up hope of having more children until she began to get older.”

Brendon shrugged. “I don’t know, women have children at her age. Maybe if she remarried she could have one more,” he suggested and Spencer shook his head.

“She says she has no intentions of remarrying,” Spencer explained. “I think she knows she’ll never have to worry about security with me and the girls here for her. I also think she can’t imagine marrying a man that isn’t my father,” he said and Brendon could hear a tightness in his voice.

Brendon tightened his hold around Spencer slightly before he spoke. “I won’t ask you about it, I don’t want to make you sad, but I am sorry for your family’s loss,” he all but whispered, and Spencer took in a sharp breath.

“Thank you.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Brendon, I swear to God, you just hold it-“

“You are swinging a hammer right at my hand-“

“I’m not going to miss!”

“Like hell you won’t!”

Spencer had re-stretched the wire in the fence he was repairing while Brendon handed him tools. However, at the moment, Spencer wanted Brendon to hold nails while he hammered a nail to hold the wires in place into the post. Brendon was clearly skeptical of Spencer’s skills with a hammer. “Brendon, I promise, I will not hit you,” Spencer said and Brendon shook his head, arms crossed. Spencer rolled his eyes. “Brendon, please? I promise, I won’t hurt you. I swear to you,” he said earnestly, looking into the big, brown eyes turned up to him.

Brendon looked at Spencer for a long time before letting out a whimper, pouting. “Fine,” he relented, taking the nail to hold in place. “But if you hit me, so help me, I will hit you back,” Brendon threatened with a grumpy look on his face.

The corners of Spencer’s mouth quirked a bit and he nodded. “If I hit you, I’ll give you a free shot to retaliate, alright?” he asked and Brendon narrowed his eyes at him before putting the nail in place, holding it so that Spencer could twist the wire into place and hammer the nail in. 

Brendon flinched and whined every time Spencer’s hammer contacted the nail, but true to his word, Spencer never hit him. When they were finished, Brendon let out a heavy sigh of relief and held out his hands to look at his fingers. “Thank God, you’re all okay,” he said, startling a laugh out of Spencer.

“Did you just talk to your fingers?” he asked in clear amusement. Brendon blushed and glared but Spencer shook his head. “No, it’s sweet, I promise,” he said, rolling his eyes at Brendon. “Honestly, who talks to their own hands, though?” he asked and Brendon just bit back a shy smile.

“Me, apparently,” he said and Spencer smiled at him, shaking his head as he gathered up the unused nails and his hammer to go put back in the saddle bags. Brendon followed him over curiously. “What?”

Spencer just turned to give him an intrigued smile. “You’re funny, is all,” he said innocently. “I-“ He grimaced apologetically. “I didn’t know you were funny.”

Brendon shrugged awkwardly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t know much about me.”

Spencer winced but quickly covered it with a smile. “Well, I like what I do know. You’re funny and absolutely unfit for ranch living-“

“Hey!” Brendon started, but didn’t continue when he saw the teasing smirk on Spencer’s face. He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Well, it isn’t my fault I’m not from around here. If you wanted a husband fit for ranching, you should’ve sent away to somewhere else for one,” he teased and Spencer laughed as he climbed up into the saddle.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said, offering Brendon his hand to help him up onto the horse. “I can teach you everything there is about ranching,” he promised and Brendon gave him a bashful look, biting his lip. 

“You would take the time to do that even though I may be horrible?” 

Spencer nodded. “Of course. You can’t learn unless someone teaches you and why let someone else do it when I’m the reason you’re here?” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m the best-“

“Oh and so modest as well,” Brendon interrupted, earning a smirk.

“I never said anything about modesty,” Spencer said, earning a surprised laugh from Brendon. “Hold on, I want to get back before dark,” was the only warning Brendon got before Spencer spurred the horse into a run, making Brendon squeak embarrassingly before clinging to Spencer in hopes of not falling off.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon yawned as he stirred the pot on the stove, up earlier than anybody else to try and get breakfast started before anybody else woke up. He was understandably distracted, so it was enough to make him yelp in surprise when a voice spoke from right beside him. “Brendon-“

“AH!” He flailed and nearly fell over, only to be caught by the arm. He looked up and found an amused looking Spencer holding onto him. “Oh damn, that was not nice,” he said, glaring as he caught his breath.

Spencer laughed. “I’m sorry, not my fault you were half asleep,” he teased, going past him to get the coffee. “Why did you get up so early this morning?” he asked and Brendon shrugged.

“I always get up early.”

Spencer offered him a cup of coffee. “Here, help you get better woken up.” Brendon thanked him and Spencer leaned against the table behind Brendon. “And I know you get up early every morning, but you got up extra early today.” Brendon raised an eyebrow over the rim of his cup and Spencer chuckled. “I wake up when you get up. I’ve never shared a bed with anybody before.”

Brendon cringed. “Sorry,” he said, then put down his cup on the table to go back to the stove. “And you’ve never shared a bed with anybody? That must be strange.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Well now, exactly how many ‘beds’ have you been sharing?” he asked and Brendon’s eyes widened and he flushed as he spun around to face Spencer.

“NO! Not like- Oh God,” Brendon whined, slapping his hands over his face. “Not at all in that manner. That is far from what I meant,” he said, face on fire as he lowered his hands to see Spencer watching him with a clearly amused look on his face. “I meant, I grew up with six brothers and sisters. It wasn’t until there was only my closest sister and me left that I didn’t share a bed with a brother or sister,” he explained. “I did not mean- well, _that_!”

Spencer cringed. “Oh, um, sorry if that was rude of me, or-“

Brendon crossed his arms. “Of course it was a rude assumption, but I can’t say much, I didn’t really clarify much when I said it.”

Spencer chuckled and shook his head. “I wasn’t saying anything about your past, Brendon.” He smirked playfully. “Besides, I’m not judging you-“

“Oh shut up,” Brendon grumbled, turning back to the stove. “Nothing to judge anyways,” he mumbled and Spencer snickered. “I said stop!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Spencer said, holding up his hands. “Promise, I’m sorry,” he said, earning a sideways glance from Brendon, who looked less than amused. Spencer smiled and shook his head when Brendon turned back to stir something once again. “Say, I’m going to town today, would you like to come with me?” he asked, changing the subject.

Brendon glanced back at Spencer. “You want me to come with you?”

Spencer shrugged. “I figured you might like to come into town. You haven’t been away from home since you moved in. You’re from a city and you’ve been living in a ranch house for three weeks.”

Brendon gave him a small smile. “I’d like that,” he said and Spencer smiled back at him.

“Good, I’ll hitch up the wagon after breakfast, it should give you time to get dressed to go out.” Spencer drained his coffee and stood up. “I’m going to go wash up for breakfast,” he said and Brendon nodded to him as he left, smiling at Spencer’s back as he walked out.

Brendon was starting to think Spencer may not mind him so much anymore.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon looked around closer at the people and buildings as they headed into town. “So what all do we need to get today?” he asked Spencer.

“Well, I’m picking up some feed and getting a few things from the general store for my mother.” He hummed. “I think the girls wanted some lace from the dressmaker’s shop. I figured we’ll see what else we can think of while we’re walking around,” he suggested and Brendon nodded. When they got into town and out to the feed store, Spencer stopped the wagon and hopped down. Brendon hopped down as well, stopping when Spencer turned to him. “I’m going to be here for a little while, I want you to go look for lace for the girls. I’ll meet you at the general store in about an hour. I figure we’ll have dinner and then maybe walk around town, just shopping for us?” he said more than asked.

Brendon nodded with a smile. “Alright,” he said, taking the money Spencer gave him, only to go wide eyed. “Jesus, Spencer, how much lace am I getting?” he hissed and Spencer chuckled.

“Enough. And to be fair, I have no idea how much lace will be,” he added and Brendon rolled his eyes, shoving the money in his pocket.

“I’m going to end up getting jumped carrying around so much money,” Brendon grumbled and Spencer just gave him a small, amused little smile as he turned to head into the feed store, leaving Brendon to walk down the boardwalk in search of the dressmaker’s shop.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon was looking down at the tag on the parcel of lace he was carrying as he headed into the General Store, so he didn’t see the man in front of him stop right in the doorway. Brendon let out a loud ‘oof!’ when he ran into the man, who staggered inside the store. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir!” Brendon said quickly, rushing inside to make sure the man was alright. “I didn’t see you-“

The man turned and waved a hand. “I’m alright,” he said, only to pause when he looked at Brendon. “Why I think I’m more than alright.” The man smiled somewhat predatorily as he looked Brendon up and down. “My my, what is your name?” he asked and Brendon’s eyes widened as he realized the man’s tone was _interested_.

“Brendon Smith, and I’m glad you’re alright,” he said before walking around the man in an attempt to make it clear he had no intention of returning the man’s interest. He headed inside and saw a man sitting behind the cash register, talking to several other men who were sitting on barrels and a lone bench, all talking and smoking cigars. He nodded politely to the man at the register as he looked up and then ducked over to a shelf full of preserves, pretending to be absorbed in the jars as he snuck glances out the window to watch for Spencer’s arrival. 

“So, Mr. Smith.” Brendon sighed as the man clearly hadn’t took the hint. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, leaning against the barrel of sugar next to Brendon. “A small town like this, you generally don’t see many new faces. You just passing through?” he asked, giving Brendon a somewhat ogling look up and down once more.

Brendon felt his blood boil as the man’s eyes lingered on his backside and turned to face the man fully so that he couldn’t look him over as easily. “Actually, I’m in town with my husband, he’s meeting me here after he’s finished at the feed store,” he answered, trying to get rid of the unwanted attention.

The man gave him an amused look. “Damn, should’ve known someone would’ve already snapped up a pretty face like yours,” he said, leaning into Brendon’s personal space a bit. “Although, if he isn’t around just now-“

Brendon gave him a stern glare. “I am a married man.”

The man grinned lecherously. “Where are my manners, you’re right, this isn’t the type of conversation to be having in the middle of a shop!” He nodded at the door. “Perhaps we could continue our conversation outside-“

Brendon’s eyes widened as the man touched his arm. He snatched back. “I- I’m not kidding, my husband will be here soon and he won’t like it if he hears you talking to me like that-“

The man scoffed. “Come on, I doubt your husband can offer you half of what I could-“

“ _Excuse me!_ ” Brendon spat, glaring at the man’s outrageous forwardness. “How dare you talk that way, without even saying your name, to a married man-“

“His name is Vernon. Russell Vernon.” 

Brendon spun around with a sharp breath of relief when he found Spencer striding up to them. He rushed over to Spencer’s side. “Spencer-“

The man, Russell it would seem, let out a bark of laughter. “Why Spencer _Smith_ ,” he said, shifting his eyes to Brendon, who felt his cheeks burn as he ducked a little closer to Spencer. “I didn’t even know you had gone and gotten married, Smith.”

Spencer hummed. “I didn’t even know you had the guts to flirt with somebody else’s husband in public. Figured you were to yellow for that,” he countered and Brendon frowned as he looked between Spencer and Russell Vernon.

Vernon smirked. “Well, a pretty one ran into me and I couldn’t help myself.” He looked Brendon up and down again. “Sure got you a nice looking one here, Smith,” he said and Spencer clenched his jaw.

“If you bother my husband again, you will regret it, Vernon,” Spencer said in a surprisingly cold voice that Brendon had never heard. “I’ve whooped you when you were a boy and I’ll whoop you again as a grown man, Vernon,” Spencer warned and Russell Vernon’s eyes flashed.

“It isn’t my fault you like to pick whores, and this one’s just another whore too, I bet-“

Brendon grabbed Spencer’s elbow when he reached out, making to grab Vernon. “Spencer, no!” he said, and Russell Vernon took the distraction as his chance to duck past them and walk quickly out of the shop. “Spencer, he isn’t worth it-“

“I know, I know,” Spencer sighed, deflating. He rubbed at his eyes and then looked over to Brendon, who was standing next to him. “Sorry about that. I have no idea how _that_ even happened,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“Spencer, I may not have your looks, but I’m not falsely modest enough to not expect a few ungentlemanly things said to me by terrible men. It isn’t the first time somebody got fresh with me, I doubt it’ll be the last,” Brendon said, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “I did hope it wouldn’t be a problem now that I’m a married man, though,” he said softly.

Spencer gave him an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry. It’s just that you’re new. Nobody’s seen us together really, so they probably don’t even know what my ‘strange new husband’ looks like. It won’t be as much trouble now, Pete, the owner of the store? He’s the biggest gossip in town,” he said, nodding at the counter where the proprietor was leaning precariously to the side to see the scene that had gone down.

Brendon bit his lip and gave Spencer an uneasy smile. “I’m really sorry about all that.”

Spencer shook his head. “Nonsense, it wasn’t your fault.” He smiled apologetically. “I kind of have an old rivalry with Russell Vernon. And he is a despicable man, so it’s not shocking a pretty new face made him behave appallingly,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“Now you’re just mocking me-“

“I’m not!” Spencer interrupted, smiling at him. “You are pretty, it’s just truth,” he said before ducking down to pick up the parcel of lace Brendon had dropped. “Here, you take this and let’s get what we came for, then we can go have dinner at the Hotel and put this whole incident behind us, okay?”

Brendon nodded, taking the lace. “Alright,” he said, falling into step beside Spencer as they headed down to where the sacks of flour were. “Hey Spencer?” Brendon said softly, nudging him in the arm gently. “Thank you, for standing up for me.”

Spencer gave him a slightly confused smile. “You’re my husband,” he said simply and Brendon couldn’t fight the way his insides wriggled and a bright smile crept across his face as Spencer went back to picking up a sack of flour.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After they ate, Spencer convinced Brendon to come meet the owner of the Saloon, a friend of his. As soon as they walked into the Saloon, the man behind the bar gave Spencer a wide grin. “So, I hear you and Russell Vernon nearly got into a fight!”

Spencer groaned theatrically. “Patrick, don’t tell me Wentz has already spread that one around.”

“Oh yeah, it’s all the talk,” a man at the bar said, grinning at Spencer. “So, this must be the new Mr. Smith we’ve heard about,” the man said and Spencer smiled brightly as he led Brendon over by a hand on the small of his back.

“Brendon, this is the Post Master, Gerard Way, and this is Patrick Stump, an old friend,” he said and Brendon nodded to them both. “This is Brendon, my husband.”

Patrick smirked. “Pete says Vernon was making advances towards your husband, care to comment?” he asked and Spencer huffed.

“That bastard may be a terrible person and I hate him with all of my heart, but…” He smiled at Brendon, who had wandered a few steps off to look at the piano tucked into the space at the end of the bar before continuing. “Well, he’s clearly got good tastes,” Spencer finished and Patrick shook his head in amusement.

Gerard sipped his drink and nodded. “You got lucky there, my friend. I heard all about the mail-order part and I highly expected one that was a lot less… attractive,” he said and Spencer grinned bashfully.

“Yeah, he’s nice, too. I’m pretty glad I went with that idea now. It’s still very awkward but he’s nice, everybody at the ranch loves him, I think he’s a good addition to the family,” he admitted softly so that only his friends heard him.

Patrick raised an eyebrow as he saw Brendon running his fingers across the piano keys. “So Brendon,” he said loudly, startling the man in question into snatching his hand away. “You play?” he asked, and Brendon blushed but nodded.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “You play the piano?” he asked and Brendon nodded once again.

“Yes, ever since I was small.”

Spencer bit his lip. “You know, there’s a piano in the parlor, in case you’ve never seen it,” he said and Brendon came back to Spencer’s side, his cheeks showing a trace of pink still.

“I noticed, but I didn’t think anybody would want me messing with it,” he said and Spencer frowned slightly.

“It’s your home too, Brendon,” he said softly, earning a shrug from Brendon. “I’m sure nobody will be bothered. My mother plays, she might enjoy someone else playing music again.”

“Patrick, we’re out of the-“ Brendon and Spencer both turned and Brendon blinked when he saw how tall the man coming out of the back room was. The man spotted the man at the bar and Brendon and Spencer then froze. “I-I mean… Mr. Stump, there’s no more bourbon,” he finished and Patrick nodded, giving Gerard and then Spencer a side-eyed look before heading towards the back.

“You watch things up here, I’ll go make sure we have a few spare bottles before our shipment comes in in the morning,” he said and Spencer called out to him.

“We’re just going, but I wanted to stop in and let you meet Brendon,” he said and Patrick gave him a nod.

“It was nice to meet you, Brendon, good to see you, Spencer,” he said, and Spencer nodded to Gerard before turning to lead the way out.

As they were leaving, Brendon glanced back and noticed Patrick sliding his fingers along his assistant’s forearm and glancing up at him meaningfully in the moment Brendon was able to spare a look before turning to follow along beside Spencer.

It wasn’t until they were on the ride home that Spencer brought his friend up again. “What did you think about Patrick? He’s a nice guy,” Spencer said and Brendon nodded with a smile.

“He seemed nice enough. Seemed awfully amused about the gossip-mill though,” he said and Spencer laughed.

“Well, he’s good friends with Pete, the one I told you about. He hears all the gossip first.” Spencer made a face. “Pete’s also a good friend like that, I suppose. Patrick hears all the rumors going around about himself before the rest of us do.”

Brendon frowned. “What kind of rumors are there about him? He seemed like a pretty simple guy.”

Spencer chuckled low in his throat. “Well, you saw that little slip his assistant made,” he said and Brendon shot Spencer a confused look. “He called him ‘Patrick’,” he said and Brendon continued to look at him the same way. “Well,” Spencer continued, somewhat unsure of Brendon’s expression. “Rumor has it Travis McCoy, Patrick’s assistant, gets paid just as much as a white man would. He gets a white man’s salary, AND he gets to live above the saloon.” Spencer snickered. “Although if the other rumors are true, I don’t think he’s living up above the saloon. But like I said, nobody else is really out that late so nobody _sees_ him going to Patrick’s house.”

“Patrick’s house?” Brendon prompted and Spencer smirked, giving him a look. Brendon blinked. “OH! Oh, so that’s the rumor-“

“Well you saw him call him ‘Patrick’ before he saw they weren’t alone!” Spencer said, nearly giggling as he shook his head. “If anybody found out for sure, Patrick wouldn’t have any business, only Saloon in town be damned.”

Brendon just frowned. “But why?”

Spencer shrugged. “Well… because of what he is, you know?” Spencer shook his head. “Nobody hires mulattos, and definitely not for the same pay as a white man. Hell, even the black men won’t hire many mulattos.”

Brendon gave him a perplexed look. “But why, though? It isn’t his fault who his parents were,” he said and Spencer went still, staring ahead as if he was deep in thought. Brendon shook his head. “Why shouldn’t he get paid whatever anybody else does? And what’s so wrong with him having a _job_? He’s got to live, same as anybody. He didn’t pick for his parents to be of different races, now did he?” Brendon challenged. “I never have understood the logic of ostracizing a person because they don’t fit into one race. Hell, I’m not of one race, my grandmother was an Indian, but nobody knows that looking at me or my family,” he said, then looked over at Spencer. “You don’t think Mr. McCoy is less of a person because of that, do you?” he asked and Spencer looked down, his entire demeanor avoidant. Brendon frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said honestly. “I guess… it’s just how it is?” he tried and Brendon gave him a disappointed look. “What?! Brendon, everybody thinks negros and mulattos are beneath us-“

“But why?” Brendon asked and Spencer’s mouth fell shut. Brendon nodded. “You can’t think of a single reason, can you?” he asked, and Spencer sighed.

“No, I guess not,” he admitted. He shrugged. “I don’t think Travis McCoy is a bad person. He’s a good man and he’s loyal to Patrick. I never had any real opinions on Negros or mulattos, because there aren’t many around here. I just… never really thought about it.”

Brendon shrugged. “Well, maybe you should?” He looked down at his hands. “Back in Delaware, down the street, there was a family growing up. The little boy who was my age used to get teased all the time because he was mulatto,” he said and Spencer looked up. Brendon looked up to meet his eyes. “Nobody else would talk to him. When we went out to play on the beach, him and his sister were never asked to join our games. One day I asked my mother why nobody would play with him and she said ‘because he’s different’. I asked her if it was wrong that I wanted to play with him and his sister, and she told me no, and you know what she said to explain to me that it was okay to play with that boy?” he asked and Spencer shook his head. Brendon looked into his guarded, confused blue eyes as he spoke. “She said ‘God made us all different so that the good men would stand out from the weak by overcoming those differences’. I was six years old and the very next day, when we all went to the beach, I walked over there and I asked that little boy to play with me.” Brendon glanced away, swallowing. “I got teased for being his friend, but you know what? I proved to myself I was better than them. It’s easy to let fear turn into anger and hate, but it takes courage to open your heart to what you don’t know and take a risk, Spencer.” Brendon looked at him with a weak smile. “I’d like to think you’re a good man with a good heart, Spencer Smith. I hope you never have a reason, but I bet that you would have the courage to make the right choices in the face of different and unknown.”

Spencer bit his lip. “I guess I just never thought about it like that,” he said hoarsely and Brendon chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s how it seems to go in life, isn’t it?” Brendon asked, allowing the silence to fall as they both slipped into their own minds.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was standing on the back porch looking out at the stars when Brendon came out, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Spencer?” Spencer glanced back and gave Brendon a smile. Brendon walked over and leaned against the rail beside him. “Wow, this is beautiful,” he said, looking up at the stars.

Spencer nodded. “I love clear nights. It’s so beautiful.”

Brendon smiled and nudged Spencer’s arm. “I’m going to bed, I just wanted to see where you went too,” he said, stretching his arms over his head as he stood straight. He turned to Spencer and bit his lip. “I had a nice time today. It was good to get out of the house,” he said before making a split second decision to stand on his toes, hand on Spencer’s forearm, and press a kiss to Spencer’s cheek. “Goodnight, Spencer,” he said softly, giving him a small smile before turning to head back inside.

Spencer watched Brendon walk back into the house before smiling somewhat diffidently to himself as he looked back up at the sky, really glad he had decided to take Brendon to town with him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon smiled as he walked out to the barn, where the boys were all cleaning out the horses stalls. He and Mrs. Smith had made a pie and he had been sent out to get the others to come in to wash up for supper so they could eat before the pie was cold. When he walked into the barn, he was just about to call for the men to come out of the stalls when a pile of hay hit him in the face. “AHH! Blargh!” Brendon spat out a mouth full of hay, looking horrified at first, only to be a little less disgusted when he realized it was fresh hay. 

“Oh damn, Brendon!” Brendon spat out the last piece of hay and looked up to see Spencer peeking up from behind the gate beside him. “Um-“

“Why did you stop- oh!” Frank came running with a handful of hay, only to smirk. “He missed and hit you, huh?” he said, then turned and threw the handful of hay in his hands at Spencer, who ducked with a yell.

“Stop! Brendon’s not a target-“

Gabe popped up. “Brendon’s on Spencer’s side!” he shouted, then threw hay at Brendon, who ducked quickly. “Hey, Brendon’s quick!”

Brendon gasped. “I am not on anybody’s side- HEY!” Brendon rushed over and ducked behind the gate where Spencer was. “Why are they throwing hay at us?” he demanded and Spencer gave him a playful smile.

“Well… we started throwing it and now it’s a game?” he tried and Brendon rolled his eyes, but grabbed the hay from beside Spencer, who gave him a surprised but happy look.

Brendon smirked. “Come on, I’m even younger than you boys, I like to play too,” he said and Spencer gave him a bright smile, nodding as they both came up and threw hay at Gabe and Frank, laughing as Ray came up behind them and dumped hay on them, prompting Spencer to grab Brendon’s hand and pull him into a run as they darted across the barn and scrambled up the ladder to the loft, hiding out in the hay while the other three continued shouting and laughing and running around down below.

Brendon giggled as he wiggled back away from the edge and turned to look at Spencer, who was peeking down. “You aren’t mad they’re wasting all the clean hay?” he asked softly and Spencer turned to look at Brendon.

“No we’ll still spread it around in the horse’s stalls, we just decided to have fun doing it,” he said, then shrugged, cringing apologetically. “I know it’s childish, but-“

Brendon touched Spencer’s hand. “Spencer, you get to be childish still,” he said and Spencer grinned.

“My mother wouldn’t agree,” he said and Brendon squeezed his hand.

“People grow up too fast. You can be an adult without losing the side of you that has fun doing so.” He shrugged. “Why not run around throwing hay with your friends?”

Spencer’s smile softened as he reached out to brush hay out of Brendon’s hair. “Clearly you are a hay-magnet, then. It’s all in your hair,” he said and Brendon leaned closer so that Spencer could get it out. “There,” he said, and Brendon lifted his head, eyes widening when he realized how close they were sitting, faces inches apart. Spencer felt his cheeks warms slightly. “I-“

“Wooohooo!” Frank’s cry startled them apart, Brendon nearly falling over the edge out of the hay loft, only caught when Spencer grabbed his arm to hang onto him. Frank wiggled his eyebrows at them from his spot on the ladder. “Well well, what am I interrupting,” he teased and Brendon flushed, groaning.

Spencer threw a handful of hay at Frank, who spat, flailing so much he nearly fell off the ladder. “Go on, you nosy ass,” he said and Frank smirked evilly before leaning to look down at the barn floor below.

“Hey guys! Spencer and Brendon are having a private moment in the hay loft, ignore their absence!” he shouted, then tipped his hat to the two who were bright red before heading down the ladder. “Proceed, gentlemen!” he shouted up to them, and Brendon huffed.

“That man is an ass,” he said and Spencer laughed nervously.

“Definitely,” he said, then looked at Brendon for a moment before darting in to press a kiss to Brendon’s jaw, smiling shyly before he clambered over to the ladder and started down, letting out a war cry as he ran after Frank.

When Brendon finally escaped the barn with everybody else in tow and made his way back into the house, Ginger, Jackie, and Crystal all stopped and looked at him covered in hay before the girls burst into giggles. Mrs. Smith just shook her head. “Those boys,” she said and Brendon sighed.

“Don’t I know it,” he said, shaking even more hay out of his hair as he went to get washed up for dinner.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon was just finishing dinner when Spencer came in. “Oh hey, you’re in early,” he said and Spencer walked over to plop a hat on Brendon’s head, making him frown. “Why am I wearing a hat?” he asked, eyes crossing somewhat she looked up at the brim over his forehead.

Spencer smiled at how adorable Brendon looked to be so confused. “We’re going riding, pack dinner for us to go,” he instructed and Brendon’s frown of confused turned to one of annoyance.

“I am not going _riding_ , horses hate me! Also, I spent a long time cooking this dinner, you better be sitting down and eating it,” he argued, crossing his arms pointedly.

Spencer smiled. “But Brendon, I want to teach you-“

“I don’t want to learn!”

“But you need to-“

“Spencer-“

“Brendon-“

“Boys!” They both got quiet when Mrs. Smith came walking in, giving them an amused look. “While you’re arguing, Brendon, the bread is burning,” she said and Brendon yelped, rushing to grab a towel so he could get the bread out of the oven before it burned.

“See, Spencer? You are more trouble than you’re worth sometimes,” Brendon said, smiling to show he didn’t mean it as he set the bread on the table. 

Spencer bit his lip. “Come on, I want to teach you how to ride. You need to know how, even if you don’t do it much,” he said, following Brendon around as he set the table with Ginger’s help. “Just the basics. We can learn on my horse, she’s sweet!” he offered and Brendon turned to him with a pointed look. “You know you want to,” he said and Brendon sighed.

“You’re going to be the death of me. Literally. You’re going to get me on a horse and I’ll fall off and _die_ ,” Brendon complained, earning a bright smile that made him soften his glare some.

“You’ll have fun, and I won’t let you get hurt, promise,” Spencer said, darting in to press a kiss to Brendon’s cheek. “I’ll get a canteen for you,” was all he said before he started filling canteens and packing up food.

Brendon shook his head with a sigh and ignored the amused look Ginger was giving him as he let Spencer talk him into learning to ride when he had been adamant he wasn’t going to.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon gave the horse a wary look as Spencer gestured for him to mount up. “Sure it won’t bite me?” he asked and Spencer laughed.

“He won’t reach all the way back around and bite you if you get on him! I did offer my horse,” he said and Brendon glared, but climbed up onto the horse. “Alright, move your foot. I don’t want him just running off with you, I need to show you how to use the reins,” he said and Brendon moved his foot and leaned forward so that Spencer could climb up behind him. 

“You’re lucky I’m small, you keep sticking both of us on one horse,” Brendon grumbled and Spencer laughed, the sound resonating against Brendon’s back.

“I’m not exactly Toro myself, so it’s alright,” Spencer said, reaching around Brendon to take the reins from him. “Okay, just watch and pay attention go my hands,” Spencer instructed as he urged the horse into walking, explaining everything to Brendon as they went. He explained everything about how to make the horse go where he wanted and how to control the speed at which the horse walked. He helped teach Brendon how to sit so that he didn’t bounce so much and, once he thought Brendon was ready, he dismounted and got his own horse, smiling as he rode up beside Brendon. “Ready?”

Brendon gave him an uneasy look. “I guess,” he said, earning an eye roll.

“It’s okay, Brendon. We’ll go slow,” he promised, nudging his horse into a walk, feeling a spark of pride as Brendon followed along beside him, looking less and less terrified as they went along. They followed along a trail up towards the hills, and Spencer figured Brendon would enjoy seeing the wildflowers up in the forest. They still hadn’t eaten their packed dinner so Spencer figured they could take a break near the little creek coming down from the hill where the shade from the trees made it cooler than out in the open.

As they started through the trees, Brendon tried his best to avoid branches, but by the time they reached the creek Spencer had been guiding them towards, Brendon’s horse had run him into four branches, leaving twigs and leaves all in Brendon’s hair and a sour look on his face. When Spencer dismounted, he couldn’t help but snicker as he walked over to Brendon, who glared at him. “Don’t do that-“

“This damn horse ran me under trees,” Brendon grumbled, then started to dismount only to yelp when his foot got caught. “AHH!”

Spencer laughed and caught Brendon before he could trip and fall, ignoring his flailing arms. “Easy, easy,” he said, then held Brendon up as he wiggled his foot out of the stirrup. Brendon stood and Spencer held onto his shoulders as he balanced. “Okay now?” he asked and Brendon gave him an embarrassed little smile, still hanging onto Spencer’s forearms. 

“I’m bad at this,” he mumbled shyly.

Spencer grinned and picked a leaf out of Brendon’s hair, ruffling it when he was done. “You’re learning fast, at least,” he said, then took his hands off of Brendon, stepping back. “Now, I’ll tie up the horses, you go find somewhere in the shade to eat,” he instructed and Brendon nodded, going to get the food out of Spencer’s saddle bag. When Spencer tied up the horses, he followed the direction Brendon went and stopped when he found him, breath catching at the sight he was met with.

Brendon was sitting on the ground beside a rock, where he had started to unpack the rolled up biscuits and pieces of chicken before he became distracted with the butterfly currently flying around his head. The genuinely happy smile on Brendon’s face as he watched butterflies fly around where he was sat in the tall grass and purple flowers was so breathtaking, Spencer wasn’t exactly sure what had hit him for a moment. Brendon looked up at met his eyes with a curiously raised eyebrow and Spencer just fixed a smile on his face and walked over, stopping to sit down beside Brendon, who turned and finished unpacking the food. “So, maybe the horse riding isn’t so bad,” Brendon admitted, offering Spencer the canteen after the took a drink from it.

Spencer smiled. “I told you. It’s pretty fun when you’re good at it. You’ll get there soon,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes. 

“Just as long as he stops running me into trees,” he grumbled, earning a chuckle from Spencer as they started eating.

Spencer hummed as he bit into the biscuit. “Damn, you cooked this?” he asked and Brendon raised an eyebrow at him. “You cook better biscuits than my mother,” Spencer said and Brendon grinned proudly.

“Well, I grew up with a lot of people in the family, my mom needed a helper,” he said, shrugging. “I like cooking.”

Spencer just gave him a smile. “You’re kind of amazing, has anybody told you?” he joked and Brendon ducked his eyes bashfully. 

“Thank you.” Brendon smiled, glancing up at Spencer with a pleased look on his face. “I’ve never really been appreciated, and I’m not saying I’m amazing or something, but my whole life, I did more than most and never got many ‘thank you’s, so it’s nice to hear that you actually appreciate what I do,” he said softly. He gave a little dismissive shrug. “It’s just nice, is all.”

Spencer swallowed hard as he felt something, a warmth inside of him and a nervous lump in his throat, all of it as he watched Brendon’s shell fully chipped away, leaving him completely open and honest for Spencer to see. Spencer took a shaky breath and shook his head as he watched Brendon staring down at his lap, somewhat lost in thought. “You have no idea how beautiful, you are, do you?” he asked somewhat reverently.

Brendon looked up, a frown line between his eyebrows. “What?” he asked, looking adorably and utterly perplexed.

Spencer let out a weak laugh then leaned in to press a kiss to Brendon’s lips quickly, taking him by surprise. He pulled back and grinned. “You. You’re beautiful,” he said and Brendon’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh, stop,” he said, shaking his head as he looked away. “I’m not _beautiful_ , what are you even-“ Spencer cut him off by leaning in to kiss him again, reaching out to cup Brendon’s cheek gently. Spencer smiled when Brendon followed his lips as he pulled back. 

“You really are,” he promised, stroking his thumb along Brendon’s cheek as he looked into his big, brown eyes. “I got _very_ lucky, Brendon Smith,” he decided and Brendon beamed.

“I can’t say I’m not pretty lucky too, Spencer Smith,” he countered, earning a chuckle. “You’re a good man, Spencer. And I told you from the start, you are very handsome. I still can’t believe someone so kind and handsome needed to send away for my skinny little self, but I have to say, I’m glad you did.”

Spencer grinned. “I’m glad I did too,” he said softly, eyes falling shut as Brendon leaned in to kiss him once more before sitting back, sharing smiles as they went back to their dinner.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon stood to clear the table while the other men all went to get their boots on out the back door, only to giggle in surprise when Spencer came back and caught his hand, twining their fingers together. “Spencer,” he started, only to have his giggle silenced as Spencer ducked in to kiss him with a smack.

“I’ll see you later, Brendon,” Spencer said, kissing Brendon’s hand before dropping it to turn and walk out. Brendon bit his lip to fight a bright smile as he watched him leave, still fighting that same smile when he went back to clearing up. Over the past week, since their first kiss- aside from their wedding- on their horse ride, Spencer had taken to kissing Brendon goodbye every morning before going out to work and kissing him goodnight every night before bed. Brendon could honestly say he was very glad he had taken up that offer to marry Spencer in the first place. 

Brendon had no idea how long he’d been daydreaming while he cleaned the dishes when a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He dried his hands and headed out and down the hall to the front door. He smiled when he opened the door and found Travis McCoy standing there, holding a parcel. “Well good morning, Mr. McCoy,” he said as he came out onto the porch to meet him. 

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” he said, nodding to Brendon, who waved a hand.

“Call me Brendon,” he said dismissively.

Travis nodded. “You can call me Travis, sir,” he said, then offered Brendon the package. “Patri- I mean, Mr. Stump got some of your mail at home- his home,” he said, skin paling slightly.

Brendon gave him a sad smile. “Travis, I’m not going to say anything to anybody,” he said and Travis cringed.

“I should be better at lying,” he admitted softly, head hung.

Brendon felt his heart drop and he shook his head. “Come sit for a moment,” he said, heading for the rocking chairs off to the side of the door.

“I should really-“ Travis tried to gesture to his horse and Brendon gave him a smile.

“Come on, Travis, just come sit for a moment, I’m sure Patrick has things taken care of this early in the day,” he said and Travis reluctantly walked over, looking around warily before sitting beside Brendon. Brendon felt a small spike of anger at the fact that Travis felt it necessary to make sure nobody saw him sitting and conversing with Brendon. Brendon smiled when he sat. “Now, what all has gone on in town lately?” he asked and Travis smiled bashfully.

“Well, the post office still can’t deliver mail,” he said, gesturing to the parcel in Brendon’s hands, which earned him a laugh. “Oh, there’s a street festival Saturday. There’s going to be food and music and dancing all down Main Street. The church is having a bake sale the same day,” he said and Brendon hummed.

“I bet the girls would love that,” he said and Travis nodded.

“Mrs. Smith always used to love bake sales. She’d always make these apple pies that Patri- Mr. Stump loved,” he said, then smiled sadly. “She hasn’t really come to town much since Mr. Smith died, though.”

Brendon nodded, knowing fairly well from his time being there that Mrs. Smith was still grieving, even if he’d been told her husband had died a year before he moved in. Brendon tilted his head and eyed Travis. “Why do you do that?” 

Travis frowned. “Do what?” he asked and Brendon waved a hand.

“You slip all the time, but you always try and recover and say ‘Mr. Stump’ instead of ‘Patrick’,” he said, looking at him curiously. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that nobody’s really buying it,” he said flatly and Travis chuckled weakly.

“Yeah, I know. We both do,” he said, then sighed, looking out at the horizon, eyes distant. “I guess I do it in hopes that one day I won’t slip. One day people will just stop speculating and start pretending I’m just another employee to him.”

Brendon lifted his chin. “Why though. If they know, they know. And besides, I saw in a few moments the way he looks at you, Travis,” he said and Travis ducked his head with a shy smile. “The way Patrick touched your wrist that afternoon said a lot more than you calling him ‘Patrick’ or even my husband letting me in on the gossip about Patrick Stump and his employee,” he pointed out.

Travis twisted his hands in his lap. “If we don’t at least pretend then people won’t keep turning a blind eye, Brendon. Patrick’ll lose business if not worse. I won’t lie to you, since you seem smarter than that, I love him more than anything else in the world.” He looked at Brendon. “You can’t possibly know what it feels like to know somebody is always in danger of losing their livelihood and their friends just because you love them,” he said and Brendon’s blood ran cold as he saw the guilt in Travis’s eyes.

Brendon reached out and squeezed Travis’s hand. “Travis, he wouldn’t risk so much if he didn’t love you more than he feared for everything else. It’s his decision to make and he clearly has chosen you,” he expressed encouragingly. 

Travis’s jaw tightened and he looked away. “Yeah, my mama made her decision too and that didn’t end well for her or my daddy,” he said gruffly. “My mama’s father was a rich man who decided to hire a crew to go west to look for gold in the mountains. He took his family, the miners, and a group of freedmen as soldiers against the Indians. My daddy was one of those freedmen. My mama said he saved her life in an Indian attack and she fell in love with him. Everything went well until I came along.” He shook his head. “My daddy got killed because of me and my mama got disowned and left,” he said, then shot Brendon a look. “I was twelve years old when my mama got sick and died because we were too poor for medicine.” He shook his head. “I know what those kind of decisions leads to,” he finished and Brendon just stared at him, shocked and horrified. Travis sighed. “I’m sorry, I should go,” he said, standing up.

Brendon paused, then jumped up and rushed after him. “Travis, wait!” He caught Travis as he stopped to untie his horse. Travis looked at him and Brendon gave him an encouraging smile. “There is no reason for people to look at you differently, Travis McCoy.” He shook his head. “You’re no different than me, and if people have a problem with Patrick loving you, then let them go somewhere else. Nobody will hurt Patrick over you and you can bet your money that they like his liquor more than they dislike you,” he said and Travis shot him an amused look.

“There’s a lot different between me and you, Brendon-“

Brendon shrugged. “Just the color of our skin.” He smiled. “ _You_ are no less of a man than I am. If Patrick is happy and you are happy, that is all that matters.”

Travis looked at him somewhat reverently. “Do you really think that?” he asked softly, and Brendon nodded, smiling up at Travis.

“Of course.”

Travis bit his lip and nodded. “Thank you. Really,” he said, shaking his head. “You are so kind, Brendon Smith.”

Brendon grinned. “I only say what is true, Travis McCoy.” As Brendon watched Travis ride off, he couldn’t help but feel sad for him and Patrick. It wasn’t fair, Brendon thought. No matter what anybody in town said, it was not fair.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer came downstairs to where Brendon was helping Jackie with the bow in the back of her dress, and stopped, crossing his arms. “And what do you think you’re wearing?” he asked Jackie, who looked up at him. He gestured for her to turn in a circle and she did so. Spencer gave her a less than impressed look and she glared.

“I am not a child-“

“You are _not_ wearing a bustle-“

“All the other girls are wearing-“

Spencer pointed down the hall and Jackie glared, letting out a frustrated sound before stomping down the hall. Brendon just sighed and shot Spencer a look. Spencer gave him a wide eyed glance. “What?! She’s fourteen years old! Her skirt was to her ankles and I didn’t say anything about that, but that bustle is not happening,” he said firmly.

Brendon smiled and shook his head. “Her skirt is long because she wants to look older, Spencer, you can’t blame her-“

“Exactly why I won’t let her wear the bustle,” Spencer said obstinately. “She doesn’t need to look older.”

Brendon chuckled in amusement. “And why not? She isn’t but a few years from old enough to get married. Your mother had you when she was three years older than Jackie and Crystal-“

“I’ll be damned if my sisters are getting married that young,” Spencer grumbled. “I’ll shoot a bastard for even looking at them like that,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“You are such a brother,” Brendon teased, then stepped back to look him over. “You look handsome,” he said, flattening Spencer’s collar with a small smile. He looked up and grinned shyly when he saw Spencer studying his face with a gentle expression. “I’m jealous, I am the only man I know that doesn’t at least have a mustache,” he said, reaching up to cup Spencer’s bearded cheek as he gazed up into his eyes.

Spencer just leaned down and kissed him sweetly, making Brendon’s stomach flip. “Well, it might interest you to know that I didn’t actually start growing a beard until last year,” he said and Brendon laughed. “I’m serious! I didn’t have anything but baby-soft skin until about a year ago,” Spencer said and Brendon shook his head.

“Well, there’s hope for me still, then,” he said with a playful grin, sliding his hands into Spencer’s as they stood together. “Any chance you grew some more, too?” he asked, standing up on his toes to try and be as tall as Spencer, who chuckled.

“Actually, I did, but somehow I doubt you’ll be as tall as me,” he said, bending his knees so that they were closer to the same height. “That better?” he teased and Brendon gave him a playfully narrow-eyed look.

“You aren’t funny.” Brendon dropped back on his heels and let go of Spencer’s hands so the he could go help Crystal find her shoes. Spencer watched him walk away and couldn’t help but smile like a fool at the thought that _that_ was his husband.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
One of the first people they saw when they started walking around at the festival was Ray and his wife. Brendon had met her once in the two months he had been living at Lonesome Sky and he thought she was a lovely lady. “Krista!” he called, waving to her as she and Ray walked towards them.

“Brendon, hi,” she said, nodding to him when they met. “You look well,” she said and Brendon beamed, looking her over.

“Look at you,” he said, noticing how her dress was fitting in the front. “I didn’t know you were expecting,” he said, earning a bright smile.

“Oh yes, Ray and I are so excited,” she said, taking his arm so that they could walk off, leaving their husbands to talk. “I saw the girls running past earlier. Surprised Spencer let them out with skirts that long. Gives people the idea they’re older than they are,” she said and Brendon groaned.

“They wanted to wear bustles instead of crinolines, so he settle don’t hemlines if they wore crinolines instead,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “He’s such a brother, he’s determined they stay children-“

“Well, well, well. We meet again, Mr. Smith!” Brendon stopped and turned, only to narrow his eyes when he saw Russell Vernon and some other men standing there.

Brendon sighed. “Mr. Vernon, do we really need to go through this again?” he asked and Krista raised an eyebrow. 

Russell Vernon shook his head. “No, I know full well you’re married now, I wasn’t going to make any advances.” He nodded to the men with him. “This is a new associate of mine, he was curious about your husband and I just saw you and figured you might be able to help him out.”

Brendon felt somewhat confused but nodded to the new man, who just spat obnoxiously to the side. “You’re married to James Smith’s boy?” he asked and Brendon offered a smile.

“Yes, my husband’s late father was James Smith,” he answered, and the man nodded.

“My name’s Barton Willis. I came a looong way lookin’ for Smith’s family. You see, Smith was a business associate of mine, and I was hoping to talk to his son,” he said and Brendon nodded.

“Well, Spencer is here, somewhere,” he said, looking around, glancing through the crowd. “I’m sure if you come out to the ranch some other day he would be glad to talk to you,” he said, nodding east. “It’s a few miles outside of town,” he said, only to feel somewhat afraid by the malicious grin that took up residence on Mr. Willis’s face.

“I think I just might do that, Mr. Smith,” he said, tipping his hat. “Ma’am,” he said to Krista before nodding for Russell Vernon to follow him as they walked off.

Krista hummed. “Is it just me, or was that very strange?” she asked and Brendon chuckled, nodding.

“Definitely strange,” he said, then nodded to the table where the ladies from the church had their bake sale set up. “Let’s go see what’s over there,” he said as he linked arms with Krista and steered them away from where they had been standing.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon laughed as he and Crystal danced around, only to have someone tap his arm. He turned and Spencer smiled at him, then at Crystal. “Can I steal my husband?” he asked and Crystal made a point of dramatically offering Brendon to Spencer, who grinned and caught his hand, pulling him around to dance off into the crowd of other dancers.

Brendon laughed as he laid his hand on spencer’s upper arm, letting Spencer guide him around. “Spencer, I didn’t even know you could dance,” he said and Spencer scoffed.

“I have two sisters, of course I can dance!”

And dance they did, every dance for the rest of the night, even when Brendon’s feet were tired and Spencer was mostly just swaying back and forth, they danced and they talked and they laughed. It was wonderful, Brendon thought, that he and Spencer got along so well when they had only known each other two months. 

Everybody was tired when they finally headed home long after sunset, but it was Brendon who fell asleep leaning against Spencer’s shoulder on the ride home. When they got to the house, Spencer smiled at Brendon. “Brendon,” he whispered, shaking him gently.

“Need help, boss?” Frank asked, and Spencer shook his head.

“Ya’ll unhitch the mules, okay?” he asked as he climbed down. As soon as he was down, he carefully pulled Brendon down off the wagon and into his arms. He hefted him up and chuckled because, as tiny as he was, Brendon sure was heavy. He carried him inside and carefully maneuvered them upstairs. He lay Brendon on the bed and smiled at the way Brendon just mumbled and rolled his head to the other side. He pulled off Brendon’s shoes and considered trying to wake Brendon to change, but decided against it. He changed for bed himself and then carefully maneuvered Brendon under the covers before climbing in himself.

As Spencer lay down, he looked over at Brendon, whose face cast shadows in the dim light of the moon from the window, and couldn’t help but laugh softly at how beautiful Brendon really was. Spencer reached out and brushed Brendon’s bangs from his eyes before leaning in to kiss his sleeping lips goodnight. “G’night, Brendon,” he whispered, then bit his lip, heart pounding as he spoke words he had never spoken before.

“I love you, Bren,” he whispered before closing his eyes, falling asleep to memories of dancing around with his husband.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Brendon woke up late, he was surprised. He got downstairs only to gape when he realized it was already midmorning according to the clock in the hall. When he got to the kitchen, he smiled bashfully at Mrs. Smith. “Why did you and Spencer let me sleep in?” he asked and she chuckled.

“You were too tired to even walk upstairs, honey. Spencer said he figured you needed some rest.” She offered him the milk pail. “But since you’re up, can you take this out to the barn? The girls are reading and at least two of the boys headed out to fix a fence, so I’m busy,” she said and Brendon nodded.

“Of course,” he said, taking the milk pail before heading out the backdoor. 

As Brendon walked into the barn, he looked around to see if anybody was there, only to find it empty of humans. “Hello?” he called as he walked down the aisle to put the milk pail back along the shelf where the stool for milking the cow went as well. Half way there, a voice startled him.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice called, and Brendon walked back down the aisle, only to stop when Spencer came walking out of the feed room. “Finally up, huh?” he asked, smiling as he took off his hat to wipe his forehead on his glove before putting it back on his head. 

Brendon dropping the milk pail so that it banged loudly on the ground was the only thing that stopped him from staring blankly. “I-“ He blushed and cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said weakly, eyes wide as he stared at the sight in front of him.

Spencer was standing in the doorway to the feed room without his shirt on, only his pants, while wearing his hat and a pair of leather work gloves. Spencer frowned at Brendon’s blush before glancing down and freezing, eyes on his own bare torso. “Sorry, I’ll just-“ He ducked in and came out with his shirt in his hands. He tugged his gloves off and dropped them on the bench beside him as he started to slid his arms into his shirt. It wasn’t until he was about to button it that Brendon broke his trance.

“Don’t,” he said, somewhat surprised by his own boldness. Spencer stared at him with wide, surprised eyes as Brendon walked over to him, stopping inches away. Brendon swallowed hard, face on fire as he reached out and paused momentarily with his hand poised over Spencer’s chest, only to give in to the urge and touch. “Oh,” he whispered huskily, biting his lip as he flattened his palm to Spencer’s sweat-shiny torso, lean and toned from years of working on a ranch. Brendon slid his hand down Spencer’s chest, hand smearing the sweat down towards Spencer’s belly before Spencer’s hand landed over his, trapping it there.

“Brendon?” Spencer asked, voice tight. 

Brendon looked up, pulse pounding in his ears as he saw how dark Spencer’s eyes were as they looked him over like a hawk eyeing his next victim. Brendon released his lip from between his teeth and moved his hands to rest on Spencer’s bare chest, letting out a ragged breath when Spencer shivered. “Spence,” he whispered, a sense of urgency in his voice that was answered swiftly by Spencer diving down to kiss him. Brendon let out an embarrassingly loud moan as Spencer claimed his mouth in a hard, fast, hungry kiss, hands going straight to Brendon’s hips.

Brendon pushed Spencer back into the feed room and kicked the door shut, pulling Spencer around by his open shirt to push his back against the door, breaking the kiss only to breath before pressing himself flush to Spencer, standing on his toes to share more feverish kisses. Spencer let out a sound almost like a growl and Brendon yelped as the kiss was broken when Spencer physically picked him up and carried him backwards a few steps before pushing him back onto the stacked bags of feed in the corner. Brendon pulled Spencer down on top of him for another kiss before pushing him back up, sliding his hands inside Spencer’s shirt to shove it down over his shoulders. Spencer shrugged the shirt off and started to take off his hat, only to have Brendon reach out and bat his hand away. “Leave it,” he said, and Spencer paused, raising an eyebrow. Brendon just gave him a little smirk. “I like the hat on you,” he said simply and Spencer grinned.

“Didn’t know you liked it that much,” he said, earning a small laugh before he leaned back in for another kiss. He held Brendon’s face in his hand, sliding his fingers through Brendon’s hair, only to gasp when Brendon pushed him back. “What?” he asked, only to go wide eyed as Brendon undid the top buttons of his shirt and then simply skinned it over his head, leaving Brendon just as shirtless as Brendon. “Oh,” he said, eyes roving Brendon’s pale, smooth skin hungrily.

Brendon just chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah, oh,” he said, only to have his laugh turn into a sharp moan as Spencer ducked down and kissed along his jaw, down his throat, and across his chest, lips, teeth, and tongue tasting Brendon’s skin. “Spencer, Spence, please,” he gasped as Spencer lapped across his nipple, and Spencer pulled his head back with a questioning look. Brendon reached down between them to grab at Spencer’s belt, and Spencer started slightly.

“Oh yeah, of course,” he said, and Brendon laughed, shaking his head as Spencer’s hands joined his, both of them working at his belt until Brendon finally gave up and let Spencer undo it and his pants. Brendon unbuttoned his own pants, cursing how clumsy buttons were, only to cry out when Spencer knocked his hand out of the way and slid his own down Brendon’s pants. 

“Spencer!” he gasped and Spencer settled on his knees on top of Brendon, kissing him hungrily as he took Brendon’s arousal in his hand, rough skin sending sparks up Brendon’s spine as they caressed his sensitive flesh. “Oh God, Spencer,” he moaned, whining as Spencer sucked and licked at his throat as he stroked him, moaning against Brendon’s neck like _he_ was the one getting the attention. Brendon managed to worm a hand between them and shove Spencer’s pants down, only to cry out as Spencer bit down on his shoulder when Brendon took his erection in his hand. “Spencer!”

“Shit, Brendon,” Spencer groaned and Brendon moaned as Spencer’s hold tightened around his heated flesh. “C’mere,” Spencer said, pulling Brendon’s hips flush with his so that he could wrap his large hand around them both, resulting in simultaneous moans.

“Great idea, really good, idea,” Brendon babbled, gasping as he wrapped his arms around Spencer, knocking his hat off in the rush to get his hands curled over his shoulders as Spencer stroked them both while dotting kisses along Brendon’s skin. Brendon moaned, arching his back to press their bodies flush, sliding one hand into Spencer’s hair to snatch his head back so he could kiss him hungrily, tongues dancing together almost to the rhythm of Spencer’s hand wrapped around their aching flesh. 

Spencer groaned into Brendon’s mouth as both of their hips found a rhythm, thrusting into Spencer’s tight grip, seeking more and more friction. “Brendon, I can’t-“

“Spencer, Spencer, oh God,” Brendon let his head fall back, hands clenching and sliding against Spencer’s sweaty back as his pleasure mounted, building like a wave back on the beaches out east at the base of his spine before finally crashing over him. “Spencer!” he cried out, body going taught as the wave broke, spreading pleasure throughout his entire body, toes to fingertips.

Spencer just groaned, thrusting jerkily into his own fist a few more times before letting out a guttural sound, gasping against Brendon’s open lips as he reached his own end just after Brendon. “God, Brendon,” he panted, gasping as he collapsed against Brendon, who was still clutching at him hard, shaking after his orgasm. “Oh my God,” he panted, groaning as he rolled to the side, falling back on the feed stack next to his spent lover. 

Brendon reached out a shaky hand to curl around Spencer’s arm, almost afraid of losing the contact too soon. “That was- Spencer-“

Spencer let out a somewhat hysteric laugh. “It was good,” he said, and Brendon let out a hysterical giggle to match his.

“Oh God, I came out here to return the milk pail and-“ The both looked at each other before bursting into laughter again. 

Spencer raised up on one elbow and leaned over to kiss Brendon slowly, hand curled around his jaw. “Mmmm, I’m so glad you had that reaction,” he said and Brendon grinned impishly.

“Well, we are married after all, probably about time,” he said and Spencer smirked.

“I wasn’t even sure you felt like that about me,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes, turning his head to kiss Spencer’s palm.

“Spencer, I love you, you’re my husband,” he said simply, and Spencer’s breath caught. Brendon frowned at his shocked expression. “What?” he asked and Spencer shook his head, giving him a shy smile.

“I love you too,” he said, and Brendon gave him a loving look.

“Spencer, I know you do.” He leaned up to kiss him sweetly. “I wasn’t sure if it was… this far yet, but you look at me sometimes and it makes me feel beautiful,” he said, shrugging. “I knew you loved me, I just wasn’t sure it was the kind of love that involves _married_ things,” he said and Spencer just grinned impishly.

“Here I was worried you only kind of liked me, and you’re all wise about it,” he said, leaning in to kiss him with a smack. “I’ll show you married,” he teased, crawling until he could tickle Brendon, who squealed and giggled, writhing around until Spencer stopped, blushing when he realized they were both still barely clothed. “Um, maybe we should-“

Brendon chucked and nodded, quickly standing to redo his pants. “Last thing we need is for the boys to get back,” he said, and Spencer groaned.

“God no, they can never know we made love in the feed room,” he said and Brendon laughed.

“They would never feed the animals ever again,” he said, walking over to kiss Spencer once more before letting Spencer pick up his shirt.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was sitting in the parlor cleaning off his boots when he saw Brendon sitting down at the piano bench with Spencer’s mother settling next to him in her favorite chair. “Why haven’t you told me you played before?” she asked Brendon, and Spencer smiled.

“I’ve been trying to talk him into paying for you for a while now,” he said, putting his boot down to watch as Brendon kneaded his fingers together before putting them on the keys, back perfectly straight as he started playing something Spencer didn’t recognize.

Ginger shot Spencer a look and he smiled widely, shaking his head in amusement as Brendon never missed a note. “You’re really good,” Ginger noted to Brendon, who shrugged.

“I grew up in a family full of musicians. I love playing,” he said, still never missing a note. 

After a little while of just sitting around, listening to Brendon play, Mrs. Smith finally stood up. “I think everybody else has already gone to bed, I may as well go on myself,” she said, nodding to the both. “Goodnight, boys, don’t stay up too late,” she said and Spencer rolled his eyes as she walked out of the room.

“Grown and married and she still feels the need to tell me it’s bedtime,” Spencer said and Brendon laughed, slowing to a stop before stretching his arms over his head. 

“Well, she’s about right,” Brendon said yawning as he stood up. “I’m going to bed too,” he said, walking over to lean down and kiss Spencer sweetly. “You coming up or you gonna stay up a bit longer?” he asked, playing with Spencer’s hair some as he looked down at him.

Spencer smiled and pecked his lips again. “I’ll be up shortly, just gonna finish up here,” he said and Brendon nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Spencer’s head before going to head upstairs.

When Spencer finally got upstairs, he walked into the bedroom only to see Brendon standing at the mirror. “I thought you were going to sleep?” he asked and Brendon turned back.

“Oh, I was looking at the state of my hair,” he said, pushing his bangs around. “I think I really need a haircut,” he said, giggling as his bangs fell into his eyes. “I usually wear my hair a lot more clean cut,” he said and Spencer ran a hand through his own hair.

“I always liked mine longer. Less trouble keeping it trimmed,” he said, heading to the bureau to change.

“Oh yeah,” Brendon said, walking over to give Spencer a playfully stern look. “Look at what you did to my chest!” he said, pulling the collar of his shirt down to show little purple marks all over. “Seriously, look at the state of me.”

Spencer just smirked, pulling his shirt over his head. “Weren’t complaining at the time,” he said, dropping his shirt on Brendon’s head, making him whine in annoyance.

“I’ll show you complaining someday,” Brendon joked, throwing Spencer’s shirt back at him as he went and crawled into bed.

Spencer just chuckled, smiling when he blew out the candle on his way to bed. He crawled into the bed beside Brendon and bit his lip before making his decision to slide closer and curl an arm around Brendon. “Hey, you play really beautifully,” he said softly, earning a pleased hum from Brendon, who twisted around and laid his head against Spencer’s chest, wrapping his own arm around Spencer.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Hey, know what? I kind of like this a lot,” he said and Spencer laughed softly, pressing his lips to Brendon’s head.

“Should’ve been doing this long time ago, huh?” he teased, sliding his hand under the hem of Brendon’s shirt to rest on his back. “Much warmer, that’s for sure,” he joked and Brendon giggled.

“And to think, you actually weren’t aware I love you because you’re not that smart,” he said, and Spencer poked his side in retaliation. 

“I don’t know, I hoped you did, but it isn’t like either of us have ever said it before today.” He closed his eyes. “I’m so glad I wrote that letter, Brendon. I’ve never met anybody like you before, and maybe things started out a little uneasy, but I’m really happy we’re married.”

Brendon nodded tiredly. “Me too, Spence. I really like it here.” He pulled back and smiled playfully at Spencer. “I like it here, too,” he said, leaning in to kiss Spencer sweetly. 

Spencer just grinned. “You are too funny,” he teased, kissing him again. “Goodnight, Brendon.”

Brendon snuggled closer and hummed sleepily. “Goodnight, Spencer.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon smiled as he came out of the fabric store and spotted Travis walking by. “Travis McCoy, how are you doing today?” he called, rushing to catch up with him, falling in to step with the other man.

Travis chuckled, holding a basket. “Mrs. Phillips came by the saloon and said she had found a litter of puppies without a mama, so Pete Wentz asked me to go get them for him,” he said, stopping so that Brendon could lift the quilt, gasping at the four little puppies crawling around inside.

“Awwww, the poor babies,” he said, reaching in to pet one. “Do you think they’re weaned?” he asked and Travis shrugged.

“We’re not sure, but Mrs. Phillips said she waited all night and all morning to see if a mama dog was gonna come back and take care of them, but she never did. Pete’s got a dog that just had some puppies so he hopes if they aren’t able to eat on their own yet that she’ll let them nurse,” he said, and Brendon covered them back up so they could start walking again. “Pete was busy so Patrick sent me to get them and bring them back to the saloon for right now.”

Brendon smiled. “Well look at you, rescuing puppies,” he said and Travis chuckled, shaking his head.

“Pete Wentz is the one to give that credit. He loves dogs about as much as he does his own family,” he said and Brendon shook his head, grinning.

“I’m trying to talk Spencer into buying the girls puppies or kittens for their birthday. It’s coming up in a few weeks and I figure girls their age would love pets to raise,” he said and Travis nodded.

“You ought to see what Wentz is going to do with the ones his dog had, or hell, maybe these ones. They should be old enough to leave the mother by then,” Travis suggested.

Brendon smiled. “I should ask, I really think Spencer will give in eventually and I hope it’s soon.” When they walked into the saloon, Brendon was surprised to see Mr. Willis, the man he’d met with Mr. Vernon at the festival, sitting at the bar. He never had come by the house after that. He saw Travis trying to get the back room door open and chuckled. “You need some help, Travis?” he asked as soon as he saw that Patrick was busy with a customer.

“Sure, Brendon, thanks,” he said, and Brendon walked over to hold the door for him. When Travis came back out, he nodded. “Thank you, Brendon-“ He froze when he realized there was a patron at the bar. “I- I mean Mr. Smith,” he said quickly, cringing as he ducked behind the counter, grabbing a rag before heading to wipe down the tables at the far side of the saloon.

Patrick raised an eyebrow when Brendon cringed visibly. “You want something?” he asked, walking over to the end of the bar where Brendon had stopped. 

Brendon smiled and shook his head. “I just met Travis coming out of the fabric store and started walking with him and talking about puppies. I’d actually better be going on, I need to head back,” he said, and Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. Brendon smiled and shook his head. “Trust me, you seriously have nothing to worry about,” he said, winking at the surprised look Patrick gave him as he turned to head out.

He had almost made it out when the man at the bar called out to him. “Mr. Smith, right?”

Brendon turned back and gave him a polite smile. “Mr. Willis! Did you ever get in contact with my husband?” he asked, and Mr. Willis shook his head.

“I couldn’t find his ranch,” he said, looking at Brendon. “Reckon you could draw me a map or something?” he asked, and Brendon bit his lip, looking at the clock.

“Well, I’m headed home now, if you want to just ride along. I’m sure Spencer should be in for supper by the time I get home,” he offered and Mr. Willis nodded.

“I’d be much obliged, Mr. Smith,” he said, downing the rest of his drink. “Just let me go pick up my horse from outside the cigar store and I’ll join you shortly,” he said, tipping his hat at Brendon as he walked past him to head outside. 

Brendon couldn’t quite shake a strange uneasiness at the man’s expression, but he figured if he had been an associate of the late Mr. Smith, he must have good reason to want to see Spencer. “I’ll see you later, Travis,” he called, then nodded at Patrick. “Patrick.” Brendon walked out and headed for his horse, wanting to get home before the sun started to set.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon rode in awkward silence next to Mr. Willis. The man offered nothing nor did he answer anything Brendon commented on. As they rode in silence Brendon couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something wasn’t right.

It wasn’t until they came to a spot where the rode ran through a small grove of trees that his companion stopped. “Just a moment, Mr. Smith, I have something I need to show you,” he said and Brendon frowned.

“In the woods?” he asked, and Mr. Willis nodded, leading them away from the path. Brendon followed reluctantly. “You know, we won’t ever get there before dark at this rate, I really can’t imagine what you could-“

“GET HIM!” Mr. Willis cried and Brendon let out a scream as a man leapt _out of the tree_ next to him, knocking him off of his horse so that they both tumbled off. Brendon was stunned by the landing as he looked around, panicking as he saw three more men coming from behind trees, guns drawn on him.

“Wha-What are you doing?!” Brendon cried, scrambling back, only to run into someone. He snatched his head around to look, only to see the butt of a pistol coming down before his skull erupted in pain and everything went black.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer laughed as Ryan jumped on his back, hanging on as they headed inside. “Mother, Ryan’s going to eat our food again,” he called as he headed inside, hitching Ryan higher. “I’d say he needs to eat more, but he’s heavy as a cow,” he teased, earning a swat at his head.

Ginger chuckled from her spot at the stove. “So that’s where you were, I was starting to think you and Brendon had run off for the night,” she said and Spencer blushed.

“ _Mother!_ ” he cried, dropping Ryan, who giggled impishly along with Frank and Gabe, who were setting the table for Mrs. Smith.

She grinned, not looking up from the pot she was stirring. “Where is that boy anyhow?” she asked, and Spencer shrugged, walking over to steal a biscuit from the basket, only to have Ginger slap his hand without even looking away from the stove the way only mothers could.

“No clue, didn’t he help with Supper?” he asked and she sighed in frustration.

“No, I could’ve used his help too. Your sisters have run off and hid with the books Brendon brought them home last week to get out of chores. I sent him into town after dinner to get some new cloth swatches for a quilt I’m making, but he should’ve been back by now. I figured he’d got home then went and found you,” she said.

Spencer frowned, standing straighter. “It’s getting dark,” he said, going to look out the window. It was twilight, the only mark of the sun being a small band of orange on the horizon in the distance. “He has no reason to be out there this late all alone,” he said in concern.

Ginger smiled at him fondly. “Honey, he’ll be home soon, I’m sure.” She grinned as she went to place dishes on the table. “Your concern is so sweet, though,” she added, then nodded. “Go find your sisters, they have to be back inside by now,” she instructed and Spencer did as she said. 

However, an hour later, Brendon wasn’t home yet. They put off supper as long as they could until the girls starting complaining before eating without Brendon. After they finished supper and Brendon still wasn’t back, Spencer wasn’t the only one worried.

“What if he fell off his horse?” Spencer asked, pacing back and forth in the parlor where everybody else was sitting. Even Ryan had agreed to stay until they were sure Brendon got home safe. “There’s no reason for him to be this late,” Spencer said, tugging at his shirt in frustration. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Hey boss,” Gabe started. “The moon’s full, it’s bright enough to see, maybe we should ride towards town to check. If he fell and got hurt, he could be laying somewhere in need of a doctor,” he said and Spencer nodded.

“Yeah, yeah we better,” he said, then looked at his mother. “Will you and the girls be alright alone?” he asked and Ginger waved a hand.

“Spencer, of course we will. You go find Brendon,” she insisted and Spencer nodded, hugging her. She sighed and petted his hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll find him. He’ll be fine,” she said and Spencer made a soft sound.

“I hope so.”

Spencer, Frank, Gabe, and Ryan all readied their horses and rode out, riding hard towards town in hopes to find Brendon quickly. They were lucky the moon was bright enough for them to ride fast as they raced through the night across the open land, following the road to Rusty Creek with their eyes peeled.

However, when they made it all the way to town without spotting any sign of Brendon or his horse along the road, Spencer was starting to become frantic. When they got to Main street, Spencer reined his horse, turning to face the others as they call came to a stop. Ryan shook his head. “Spencer, I don’t know where he could be-“

“Somebody had ot have seen him,” Frank said. “Maybe it got late and he stayed on with Patrick? He likes Patrick,” he said and Spencer bit his lip.

“Alright, we’ll try that,” he said, looking down the mostly-darkened main street. “Saloon will still be open,” he said, nodding for the others to follow him as the rode down to the front of the saloon. They tied up their horses and Spencer made for the doors at almost a jog while the others were still tying up.

As Spencer shoved the doors open, the sound of piano music, tinkling glass, and laughter spilled out onto the boardwalk. He passed a few tables of people gambling and headed straight to the bar, where Patrick was serving someone. “Stump!” he called, catching his attention.

“Just a minute, Mr. Smith, I’m-“

Spencer pushed the customer aside, leaning on the counter. “Patrick, is Brendon here?” he asked, ignoring the angry yowls of the drunk he’d shoved aside. 

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Brendon? Of course not, why would he still be here?” he asked as if Spencer was crazy.

“But you did see him?” Spencer prompted, and Patrick nodded slowly.

“Yeah, this afternoon he came in with Mr. McCoy, talking to him about the puppies he had picked up for Pete-“

“Mr. Smith?” Travis walked over, frowning at Spencer. “Why are you here this late? You’re never in at night-“

“Any luck?” Ryan asked, edging in beside Spencer, who bit his lip.

“Patrick said he was in here this afternoon,” Spencer started, and Travis put the glass in his hand down heavily.

“Something wrong with Brendon?” he asked, not even bothering to cover for calling him his first name as concerned filled his eyes.

Spencer let out a stressed sound, shoving his hair back in frustration. “He never came home. We thought maybe he’d fallen off his horse on the way back but the road was clear all the way, we can’t find hide nor hair of him,” he said, hanging his head as Ryan put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Travis paled slightly. “What about the man he left with?” he asked and Spencer looked up with a start.

“What man?!” he demanded and Travis shrugged.

“Some man who was looking for you back a while. Brendon said he was Mr. Willis I think?” He paused, thinking. “Something about wanting to talk to you but not knowing the way to the ranch. Brendon met him at the festival when Mr. Willis was talking with Russell Vernon. Brendon offered to let him ride along back to Lonesome Sky-“

Spencer slammed his fist on the counter. “That son of a bitch!” he cried, startling a few people around him. He looked up at Ryan with rage in his eyes. “I swear to God, if Russell Vernon had something to do with Brendon disappearing I’ll kill him. I’ll put a bullet in his ass, I swear to God-“

“Spencer, hold on!” Ryan hissed, squeezing his wrist. “You don’t _know_ -“

“Like hell I don’t!” Spencer snarled. “Russell Vernon has hated me since we were children and I’ve hated him right back. I’ll be damned if I let him hurt my husband just out of spite for me,” he spat. “If anybody hurts him, I’ll put them in the ground, I don’t give a damn who it is,” he swore, face red with anger.

Frank and Gabe ran up. “Boss, you heard something?” they asked, looking at his face.

Spencer’s jaw clenched and he nodded. “Let’s go pay a visit to Russell Vernon,” he said darkly, stalking out of the saloon without another word.

As he and the others were untying their horses, Travis came heading out. “Mr. Smith!” he called, and Spencer looked up from where he was untying his horse. “I want to help you,” he said and Spencer raised an eyebrow. Travis sighed. “Look, Brendon is my friend,” he said seriously. “I don’t care what any of ya’ll think about me, but Brendon Smith is one of the only people who has ever been a friend to me and I can’t just sit around if he’s missing,” he said, eyes full of anger. “If somebody is responsible, I want to do whatever I can to help.”

Spencer gave him a small smile. “I can see why Brendon likes you, Travis McCoy,” he said, then sighed. “Look, stay here and listen out for anybody talking about anything remotely helpful,” he instructed. He nodded at the saloon. “You know as well as I do a drunk man is an honest man. You might hear something that could help,” he said, and Travis nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he said, backing up. “Be sure to send word if you find out anything, okay?” he asked, and Spencer nodded as he swung himself up into the saddle.

“We’ll be in touch soon enough,” Spencer said, turning to the others with a nod. “C’mon, boys. Let’s go pay Mr. Vernon a visit.” As Spencer and his friends raced off down the darkened street, Travis headed back inside, eyes and ears open for any news that could help find Brendon.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There were still lights in the windows of Russell Vernon’s house when they got there, and Spencer wasted no time dismounting and headed straight to the door. The others were still dismounting when the door opened and Spencer didn’t so much as wait for a “what at you doing here?” before he had grabbed Vernon by the shirt and dragged him out onto the porch. “HEY! What the hell are you doing, Smith?!” Russell Vernon shouted as Spencer slammed him up against the wall beside the door

“Who’s the man you sent after my husband?!” Spencer snarled, ignoring Ryan and Frank both running over to grab at his shirt in an attempt to pull him off of Russell Vernon. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t have an y idea what the hell you’re on about, Smith!” Russell Vernon shouted, looking at Spencer with fear and anger in his eyes. “Get your hands off me- Uh!” he cried as Spencer slammed him against the wall again.

Spencer looked him in the eyes, face deathly calm. “You were with a man, one that said he was looking for me, who is he and where did he go?” he demanded and Russell Vernon frowned.

“Well… there was Barton Willis, but he just said he used to work with your daddy, said he wanted to get in touch with you,” he said, looking confused. “But that was a while back, I haven’t seen him since.”

“Willis, that’s the one Travis was talking about,” Ryan said and Russell looked between them.

Spencer growled. “Can you give me your word you didn’t have anything to do with my husband going missing?!” he spat and Russell Vernon shook his head.

“On my life, Smith. We may have our differences, but I’d never hurt anybody, especially somebody who never did anything to me,” he said firmly. “I may not like you, Smith, but your husband ain’t got nothing to do with that.”

Spencer swore and released him, backing off. “Damn it,” he groaned, shoving his hair back. “Alright, but I swear to God, Vernon, if I find out you had anything to do with this, I will kill you,” he swore, voice deathly serious.

Vernon swallowed, but nodded. “If I hear from Willis, I’ll send word,” he said and Spencer nodded, turning his back to head back to his horse without another word.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The last of the patrons had been sent out and Patrick and Travis were cleaning up to go home when Spencer and the others got back to the saloon. When they came in, Patrick and Travis both stood up expectantly and Spencer shook his head. “Vernon swears he has nothing to do with it.”

Frank shook his head. “We’ve got nothing.”

Travis hung his head. “We didn’t hear anything,” he said before looking over at Patrick, who shook his head.

“Guess all you can do now is go to the sheriff,” Patrick said, and Spencer nodded, shaking his head. 

“Can you run get the sheriff for me?” he asked Travis, who nodded, sharing a glance with Patrick, who nodded, before rushing out of the saloon.

“Who the hell is this man?” Patrick asked. “I saw him a few times over the past week in here, but I haven’t ever seen him before.”

Spencer shook his head, putting his face in his hands. “I don’t know, I don’t have any idea who Barton Willis is. Vernon said he worked with my father but I never heard the name. I have no clue what this man could want with my damn husband-“ He kicked a chair over, cheeks flushed with anger.

Patrick glared. “Hey, I can understand how you feel but don’t take it out on my damn furniture-“

Spencer spun around. “You have no idea how I could possibly feel! You aren’t married-“

“I damn well would be if I could and you know it,” he snapped back, giving Spencer a dark look. Everybody stopped and stared and he scoffed. “Oh I know none of you are fooled by a damn thing said, don’t even pretend you are,” he groused, leaning on the counter. “Trust me, Smith, snapping at me won’t help you.” He looked around at all of them. “When the sheriff gets here, we’ll do whatever you need, because one thing’s for sure, Brendon Smith is a better man than any of ya’ll and I respect him more than most men in this town,” Patrick said sternly, glaring at them all.

They waited in silence until the clatter of hooves alerted them to the arrival of someone. Spencer stood up just as the sheriff came walking in with Travis on his heels. “What the hell is so important I got woken up just after I went to sleep?” the sheriff demanded, swiping off his hat as he walked in, gun belt jingling as he stalked over towards the group huddled around the bar. The sheriff, a man named Bob Bryar, was a tall, broad, imposing man with an imposing beard and sharp, blue eyes narrowed from years of riding in the sun only adding to his hawk like, dangerous appearance. He was not a man anybody wanted looking at them in anger.

Spencer walked towards him, mouth set in a grim line. “My husband’s gone missing. We think a man seen talking to him here this afternoon had something to do with it,” he said, and the sheriff raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a fact?” He looked around. “How long has he been missing?” he asked.

Patrick spoke up. “He left with a man named Barton Willis this evening, ‘bout an hour before dark. Willis was apparently looking to head to their ranch to see Smith about something and Brendon offered to show him the way.”

The sheriff looked around. “Anybody know this Barton Willis?” Everybody shook their heads. He nodded. “Alright, well, full moon or not, it’s too dark to go out tonight-“

Spencer shook his head. “But we can’t-“

The sheriff cut him off with a look. “Smith, it’s too dark, we can’t do a damn thing this late. First light I’ll round up some boys, we’ll get some dogs, and we’ll head out looking.” He put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder when he started to argue. “Go home, Smith. Come back in the morning and bring something of your husbands so the dogs can get his scent.”

Spencer gritted his teeth but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The sheriff nodded. “I’ll see ya’ll at first light at the jail,” he said before turning to walk out without another word.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Brendon woke up, it was dark. He was lying down next to a fire somewhere but he had no idea where or why. When he lifted his head, he could see the trees around the clearing he was in and the ground under him were both the kind of hardwood trees that grew deep in the creek bottoms at the base of the hills. He had no idea where he was, because the hills were far from his home and it was too late for him to have gotten there alone. When he struggled to sit up, he felt a pounding in his head and a biting pain in his wrists, only to look down and see his hands were bound with a piece of raw rope. 

“Looks like he’s waking up, Willis,” a voice said and suddenly it hit Brendon. The ride home, the woods, following Barton Willis off the track, and then getting hit in the head with the butt of a gun.

Brendon groaned and shook his head as he managed to sit up, looking around at the dim shadows of a camp. “Where- what’s going on?” he asked, coughing weakly at the dryness in his throat.

“You’ll do best to shut up, boy,” the same voice said, and Brendon looked around to his left, only to see a man sitting beside the fire on a log. The man’s ratty hair was all Brendon could see, his face hidden by it.

The tent across from the fire opened and Barton Willis came out, smirking as he saw Brendon. “Well, look who decided to wake up again,” he said, chuckling. “Thought Johnny here had killed ya for a little while there.”

“Not to say I probably won’t anyways,” ‘Johnny’ said from his perch next to the fire. 

Brendon felt his heart racing at the threat. “What do you want with me?” he asked, tugging at his wrists, only to give up when it only hurt and didn’t loosen at all. “I never did anything to you!”

“Nah, but your husband knows where my mine is,” Willis said, settling next to his friend at the fire. 

Brendon just frowned. “Mine? What mine? Spencer is a cattle rancher-“

“Your husband’s daddy was my partner in mining. We had a mine that Smith swore was a blank, but he got that money to start that ranch somewhere,” he said and Brendon just shook his head.

“But I wouldn’t know anything about that! Spencer wasn’t even born when his father settled Lonesome Sky-“

“Yeah but I know how Smith worked and if he had a hidden shaft he’ll have a map of the mine,” Willis said angrily. “And if it exists, your husband will know where it’s at.”

Brendon whimpered. “But what do I have to do with that? Please, let me go-“

“Your husband won’t just hand over a map to a mine with a vein of gold!” he smirked and nudged Johnny. “But he might just trade it for you.”

Johnny let out a dark laugh. “Or at least your whereabouts, so we can get away while they’re looking for you.”

Brendon closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to block out the sounds of the two men’s vicious laughter. His only hope was that they hadn’t gone too far from town for anybody to find him before it was too late.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was washing up just before dawn so that he and the boys could ride to town, along with Ray after they went to get him, and start looking for Brendon, when a loud crash and his sisters both screaming pierced the quietness of morning. “SPENCER!” Jackie screamed and Spencer dropped the towel he was drying his face with before sprinting down the stairs, the sounds of Frank and Gabe’s door flying open following him.

“Jackie?!” he shouted, jumping the last few steps, only to come to a skidding stop outside the parlor, narrowly missing stepping barefoot on glass that was all over the floor. He saw Jackie and Crystal both standing against the wall opposite the window, huddled together. The window had been busted in, and Spencer saw a rock laying on the floor with something tied to it.

“GIRLS?!” Ginger came running and Spencer held out his arm.

“Don’t there’s glass,” he said, but she shoved past and he saw she was wearing shoes. She went to her daughters, who were both clearly terrified.

Frank pushed past Spencer, already wearing his boots. He headed over and picked up the rock, bringing it to Spencer, before going to give both each girl a back ride over to the hall past the glass. Spencer opened the paper tied around the rock and felt his heart skip a beat.

_You have until nightfall to find the map to James Smith’s mine and leave it under the rock at the fork in the road. If it isn’t there by dark with nobody staying to look after it, the boy will be hanging from the tree next to the rock by dawn tomorrow._

“What does it say?” Ginger asked, laying a hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer turned to his mother, frowning. “Was… did Daddy ever have a deed on a mine?” he asked in confusion.

Ginger raised an eyebrow but nodded. “He did, that’s the business he and the man ya’ll said took Brendon were in on together. But it was a bust, their land was empty. Didn’t even have any tin ore. But that was when he was real young, before we got married. He wasn’t even old enough, he lied on the deed, they mined it for about a year, then he gave up. Came home and married me, then we built this home and started ranching,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t thought twice about it since.”

Spencer felt his heart plummet. “Willis thinks he had a secret mine shaft or something, because he wants a map of a mine left under a rock by dark or he says he’s going to kill Brendon.” He shook his head. “What the hell do I do if there _isn’t_ a map at all?”

“We head to the Sheriff like we’re meant to and we find Brendon first,” Gabe interrupted, nodding at Spencer’s hands. “Get dressed and bring that. Maybe the Sheriff will know what to do.”

Spencer sighed. “I guess that’s all we can do.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was surprised to see that Sheriff Bryar had rounded up a pretty decent posse, six of his men to go with Spencer and his three, along with Ryan. “Smith,” the sheriff said, riding over to meet him. “Got something for the dogs?” he asked, and Spencer nodded, pulling one of Brendon’s shirts his mother hadn’t took to wash yet. The sheriff nodded and tossed it to one of the men standing with the four hounds who were all pulling at their ropes, clearly raring to go.

“Sheriff, somebody threw a rock through my front window with this on it,” Spencer said, offering the letter to the sheriff. “They got to be hid out somewhere between there and town because it’s all open land all the way from the fork in the road to my ranch, you’d see the fire at night. They aren’t that stupid, I’m sure.”

Sheriff Bryar nodded. “Alright boys! Listen up,” he shouted, circling around to get everybody’s attention. “We’ve got a man whose been kidnapped, we’ve got at least one man who we know did it, and we’ve got a letter saying he’ll be dead by dawn tomorrow. So we’ve got just today to find him. Brendon Smith was last seen riding from town towards Lonesome Sky ranch yesterday about an hour before dark with a man named Barton Willis. We figure Willis is holed up somewhere between the edge of town and the fork in the road before you get to Lonesome Sky. Every grove of trees, every hill, every bottom is a potential hiding place.” The sheriff turned around and nodded at one of his deputies to walk over to let all the dogs smell of Brendon’s shirt. “The dogs might not get anything as far as they were on horseback, Smith, but they got his scent. Chances are he would’ve outrun them on his horse so they got him off it somehow. Anywhere they knocked him off, we’ll get the scent and follow it into the woods.”

Spencer nodded, watching as the men holding the long thirty-foot ropes the dogs were tied to mounted up on their horses. “Let’s go,” he said to Ryan, who rode up beside him.

“We’re going to get him, Spencer,” he said and Spencer just nodded, steeling his expression to hide how scared he really was.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It was already noon before the dogs caught a scent. They had gone up and down the road, going off of it in a few hundred yards either direction and back, before in a grove of trees, the sound of dogs baying caught everybody’s attention.

“Sheriff!” A voice shouted from deep in the woods and Spencer looked up across at Sheriff Bryar, who whistled and wheeled his horse around. Spencer followed along behind him, the sound of horses racing through the forest all around them as they followed the sound of the dogs. 

As they broke through into the clearing, the sheriff pulled his horse up and stopped as they all came upon one of the dog handlers standing in a narrow spot where the dogs were going wild, pulling at their leads and baying like they had treed a squirrel. “What you got?” the sheriff asked, and one of them men pulled at the dogs rope long enough to look up at the sheriff on his horse.

“Looks like we caught a blood trail, Boss. It ain’t much but it’s got the dogs raring to go.”

Spencer felt his throat close up. “Shit,” he said and the sheriff turned to look at him.

“We’re gonna find him, Smith,” Sheriff Bryar promised before turning back. “All ya’ll come on! Keep your guns ready, we have no idea how many of them there are. With the dogs, they’ll surely hear us coming, so we gotta be ready!” he shouted, then nodded at the men on foot with the dogs. “Lead the way.”

The dog handlers gave the dogs some slack and took off the dogs and runners trampling through the undergrowth while the ones on horses followed them, eyes peeled for danger.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon was curled up beside a tree, watching in silence as Barton Willis and Johnny whispered in hushed tones about something. He suspected they were deciding how to kill him. Brendon was hungry, thirsty, and dirty from the gash the gun left in the top of his head bleeding all over his right ear and down his neck. He couldn’t help but being terrified of what they would do to him. He was sure it would be terrible. He thought they might slit his throat to keep from wasting a bullet. He saw one of them coiling up some rope and he really hoped they didn’t hang him.

He was lost in a terrifying daydream of Spencer finding him dead, hanging from a tree when Willis cut through his thoughts. “SHHH, what’s that?” he hissed, and Brendon sat up, eyes wide as he heard the baying of hounds echoing through the woods in the distance. They seemed to be getting closer and Brendon’s heart leapt into his throat, hope springing from the dark recesses of his fear at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to die after all.

A distant cry of ‘the dogs are splitting up, ya’ll go that way, we’ll go this way’ startled Willis to his feet. 

“Damn, they’re surrounding us!” he cried, then looked at Johnny, only to glance up at Brendon, who went wide eyed. “You set them off, do whatever you got to, just get rid of them,” he said to Johnny as he stalked over to Brendon. “You, come with me,” he said, snatching Brendon up by the rope binding his wrist.

“Ow! You’re hurting me- AHH!” Brendon cried she was slapped, then dragged into the tent. Willis shoved him to the bedroll and slapped a hand over his mouth as he cried out.

“You make a sound and I’ll gut you, boy,” he said, pulling out a knife from his hip pocket.

Brendon closed his eyes, tears of fear and hope sneaking past his lashes as he prayed to be saved, listening to the sounds of dogs and voices coming closer and closer with the knowledge deep down that they were his only chance at survival.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was riding along, eyes wide for any sight that might suggest Brendon was nearby, when the sheriff called out a halt to everybody in their half of the pack. He, Ryan, Frank, the sheriff, and two of the sheriff’s men made up the men who followed the first two dogs when they decided to split up back a few hundred yards. He rode up next to the sheriff, and his pulse quickened when he saw smoke rising up through the trees ahead of them. “Ya’ll listen to me,” the sheriff said, looking back. “Smith, you and the little one come with me, Ross, you stay with the dogs, tie ‘em up if you can’t hold them. I need my men with me,” he said, and they all nodded, dismounting so that they could approach more or less quietly.

They all drew their guns, keeping quiet as they edged into a small clearing, in the middle of which sat a camp with one man sitting at the fire and two horses tied up. “You,” Sheriff Bryar called, announcing their arrival. “Show me your hands,” he said, and the man, whose dirty hair covered most of his face, raised his hands.

“Evenin’ Sheriff,” the man said, and they all edged out into the clearing, guns on the man by the fire. “You need something?”

Bryar walked forward, glaring. “We tracked a missing man here.”

The man shook his head. “Ain’t nobody here but me-“

“Then why are there two horses?” Spencer cut in, glaring at the man. “Your name, Barton Willis?”

The man looked torn only to be silenced from his stuttering by the tent flap flying open. “Nah, that’d be me.” They all froze when a man that many of them had noticed in town lately came walking out of the tent, Brendon held in front of him, a knife to Brendon’s throat. When the guns all pointed at him he tightened the hold over Brendon’s mouth, knife going closer to his throat. “Do it and he dies.”

Sheriff Bryar had him leveled with one of his Colts. “Drop the knife or I’ll shoot.”

Willis laughed viciously. “You won’t shoot, you could hit him!” he crowed triumphantly.

Bryar gave a tilt of his head, hand steady as ever. “He ain’t _my_ husband,” he said simply, shocking the smile off of Willis’s face. “Let him go and I won’t shoot you, simple as that.”

Willis swallowed but nodded at his hand. “Holster those guns and I’ll let him go,” he offered.

Spencer glanced at the Sheriff who stared Willis down before nodding. “Put em up, boys,” he said, holstering his own sidearm. Spencer did what he said, and Willis nodded, pulling his knife away.

“Go on, boy,” he said, shoving Brendon, who fell down. Spencer flinched and Frank grabbed his arm, holding onto him so he didn’t run to Brendon. Brendon struggled to his feet, limping slightly as he headed across the clearing towards Spencer, eyes on his husband as he walked. “On second thought-“ Willis pulled a gun and Spencer didn’t have time to blink before he’d leveled the barrel on Brendon’s back and pulled the trigger.

As the shot rang through the trees, Spencer let out a scream. “NOOOOO!” Before he could even run towards his wide eyed husband, Sheriff Bryar drew and got a shot off before Willis could aim, taking both him and his friend down before they could hurt anybody else. “Brendon!?” Spencer cried, rushing to Brendon as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. “Brendon, oh God,” he choked out, pulling Brendon into his arms, letting out a broken sound as he pulled his hands away from Brendon’s back only to find them sticky with blood.

Brendon was conscious, body spasming as his eyes flew around in shock. “Spencer, Spence-“

“Shhhh, be quiet and breath, okay?” Spencer shushed, turning Brendon’s face to him to meet his pain-filled, scared brown eyes. “It’s okay, Brendon, it’s okay,” he squeaked, voice breaking. He looked up, rocking Brendon somewhat hysterically as he looked frantically for someone to help. “Help him,” he begged, meeting the sheriff’s eyes. “Please.”

The sheriff looked down at Brendon gravely, mouth set in a thin line. “Somebody get him on the fastest horse we’ve got and try and get him to the doctor back in town,” he said, but Spencer could hear what he wasn’t saying.

Spencer picked him up, and they went to Spencer’s horse. Ryan stripped off his vest and wadded it up to press between Brendon’s shirt and the wound in hopes of stemming the bleeding. Spencer refused to let anybody else take him, he simply got help putting Brendon on the horse before mounting up behind him, keeping one arm tight around Brendon as he pulled the horse around, guarding Brendon’s face against his chest as he tore through limbs and branches, not caring what kinds of cuts he had on his face as he raced out of the forest.

Brendon was crying weakly, still conscious for the moment. “Spencer, I don’t want to die,” he choked out and Spencer’s heart broke all over again.

“You aren’t gonna, Bren, I promise,” he whimpered, kissing his hair. Once he was back out on the road, he urged the horse into the fastest gallop he could get from her while he hung onto an unconscious Brendon, praying his hardest they could make to town in time.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When they rode into town, Spencer could see and hear horrified reactions to them both being so bloody, but he didn’t even spare a glance at anybody as he dodged around wagons and horses in his race to the doctor’s office. He pulled up to a stop so fast his horse nearly bucked him off. Two men who were on the boardwalk cursed and ran out to meet him, one catching his horse and the other reaching up for Brendon. “What the hell happened?!” he asked, catching Brendon as he pulled him off the horse. 

Spencer leapt down and together they carried Brendon up to the doctor’s door while a woman passing opened it for them. “He’s been shot,” he said as soon as the doctor himself ran out from the back to meet them.

“What the hell-“

“Please, we don’t have time for questions,” Spencer urged, and the doctor nodded, showing them through to the back. He forwent the cot in the corner and shoved everything off of a table, quickly laying Brendon on his side.

“Who did this?” the doctor asked, looking up at Spencer. “Oh, hey, didn’t even notice it was you, Spencer,” he said and Spencer nodded, panting.

“It’s taken care of, Andy,” he said somberly. “Sheriff shot the bastard who did this.”

Andy nodded, slitting Brendon’s shirt up his back. He looked at the wound and hummed. “It’s far enough to the side I doubt it hit anything important, but he’s bled a lot and I’ve still got to get the bullet out,” he said and Spencer nodded gravely. Andy gave him a look and saw how green he was. “You should probably go out front, we’ve got this,” he said, nodding to the assistant who was already boiling water.

Spencer clenched his jaw, but nodded. “Just… take care of him, Doc,” he said hoarsely, and the doctor gave him a sad smile.

“I’ll do my best, Spencer,” he promised, and Spencer backed out, stumbling out onto the boardwalk, flopping down at the side to hang his feet over the side, watching his horse drinking from the trough with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Spencer had no idea how long he sat, trying not to cry as he stared at the water in the trough, when a shirt hit him in the face. He looked up and saw Patrick Stump standing in front of him. “You’re covered in blood, it’s scaring everybody,” he said, and Spencer chuckled, not bothering to care if he was in public as he stripped off his own shirt and dipped it in the horse through, wiping off his chest and arms with it before taking the one Patrick offered him. He pulled it on, only to raise an eyebrow as the sleeves fell down over his hands. He looked up at Patrick, who chuckled. “Well, Travis is a tall man,” he said and Spencer rolled his eyes, rolling up the sleeves.

“Thank you.” He sighed and looked down at his lap. “Barton Willis is dead,” he said, and Patrick nodded.

“We heard not long after you rode in like the devil himself was on your heels. It’s all over town how Brendon was shot and the sheriff shot the man who did it,” Patrick said, and Spencer nodded. “How is he?” he asked, and Spencer bit his lip and shook his head.

“I have no idea if he’ll live. He lost so much blood and- and the doctor had to get the bullet out so he’ll lose even more through that, you know?” he said, sniffling weakly as tears filled his eyes. “That bastard shot him in the back. He let him go and when he thought he was finally safe, he was running to me, then Willis shot him in the back.”

Patrick shook his head. “We’re all praying for him,” he said, and Spencer nodded gratefully. “I sure do hope he’s okay. He’s a good man.” He smiled sadly, shaking his head again. “I’ve got more respect for Brendon Smith than most anybody else in this town, so I really mean it.”

Spencer smiled a weak, fragile smile. “Brendon’s a better man than anybody I’ve ever known. I’ve learned so much about being a better man because of him, too. I don’t know what the hell I’d do without him, Patrick.”

Patrick patted his shoulder. “I know how that is,” he said, then nodded to him. “Let’s just hope you don’t have to find out, Smith,” he said before turning to leave, crossing the street with his arms wrapped around himself, clearly lost in thought.

Spencer looked down at his hands and clenched his eyes shut, fighting to hold in the tears threatening to spill.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer sat beside the cot where Brendon lay, holding his hand tightly as the doctor spoke. “I’ve done all I can. A fever’s set in and he lost a lot of blood, so for now, all we can do is wait,” he said solemnly. “If he wakes up, he’s got a chance, but if the fever gets worse… who knows,” he said and Spencer swallowed thickly. 

“Can we help him fight the fever?” he asked, and the doctor took off his spectacles, wiping them on his shirt.

“We can try to keep him cool, hope it breaks. I’ve given him some medicine but he choked half of it back out, so we’ll have to see what we can do,” he said simply.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip as he watched Brendon’s sweaty forehead scrunching and his body shaking. “Thank you, Andy,” he said, and the doctor nodded, going back out to his desk to finish some notes. 

The doctors assistant came over with a bowl and a cloth. “I was just going to try a wet compress for his fever,” he said and Spencer sat up, holding out his hands.

“I can do it. Least I can,” he said, and the man nodded, letting Spencer take the bowl of cool water and the cloth. He wet it and wrung it out before leaning over, smiling shakily as he placed it on Brendon’s burning face, gently dabbing around his forehead and cheeks with it. “That feel better, Brendon?” he whispered, tearing slightly as he raised his other hand to stroke at Brendon’s hair, which was still wet from where the doctor washed and cleaned the wound in his hair from where the man had pistol whipped him. He pushed Brendon’s covers down some and ran the cold water over his neck and chest. “There you go, that has to feel nice. That cool water has to be nice when you’re burning up, huh?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Brendon’s forehead. “Please be okay, Bren. I need you,” he whispered. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Brendon’s unmoving lips. “I love you, Brendon Smith. So you better not leave me like this,” he said, smiling a broken, tearful smile as he wet the cloth again and went back to dabbing cool water all over his husband’s face in hopes of breaking his fever.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
**Three Weeks Later**   


_Brendon’s eyes._

_Brendon’s blood on his hands._

_Brendon crying that he didn’t want to die._

_Brendon’s pale, sallow face and cracked lips as his body tried it’s best to break the fever that set in and sapped all the strength out of his weak, frail body._

_The doctor telling him there was nothing else he could do for Brendon._

Spencer startled awake, panting as he shot up straight, drenched in sweat as he clambered out of his nightmare and back into real life. He looked over at the bed, eyes lingering on the empty space beside him. Spencer turned and put his feet on the floor, elbows on his knees as he put his face in his hands, wiping away the lingering tears from his dream.

Some nights were worse than others. Most every night since the day Brendon was shot involved terrible nightmares of the event. Some nights he woke up screaming, it was so bad. Almost every night involved crying. It was just lucky this time he had made it until morning, because he never was able to fall asleep again after . Spencer got up and got dressed, glaring at the traitorous sunrise outside his window, lighting up the open land in a cheerful, beautiful glow that didn’t have any semblance to matching Spencer’s mood on a morning where he woke up from a nightmare and rolled over to find the bed beside him empty.

When Spencer got downstairs, he already heard the footsteps of the girls rushing around the kitchen excitedly. It was their birthday. His baby sisters were fifteen. Spencer stood in the doorway and smiled as he looked at his family, his mother and his sisters, and those who were as good as family, Frank, Ray, Gabe, and shockingly, Ryan. “Damn, I wasn’t expecting your skinny ass this early,” Spencer said, and Ryan looked up, smiling when he saw him in the doorway.

“And miss the two most annoying brats in the world turn fifteen? Never!” he answered, giving Spencer a smile.

Spencer looked around and shook his head, leaning against the door casing with his arms crossed. “Almost everybody,” he mumbled to himself, looking over the scene in the kitchen without participating in the jokes flying around.

Hands landed on Spencer’s waist from behind. “Don’t forget to count me, Spencer Smith.” 

Spencer smiled and turned his head to see Brendon peeking over his shoulder, standing on his tippy toes to reach his chin there. “Never, Brendon Smith,” he said, shifting to wrap his arm around Brendon’s waist, pulling him into his side as they stood together, watching the girls running around, Mrs. Smith cooking, and the boys talking at the table. “Besides, as loud as you are, you count for two anyhow-“

“Spencer, I am not _loud_ ,” Brendon argued, swatting at Spencer’s chest, only to squeak when Spencer caught his hand and held it, pulling Brendon into his arms fully. Brendon smiled up at Spencer sweetly. “Good morning,” he said and Spencer leaned in to kiss him sweetly. Brendon raised his hand to cup Spencer’s cheek, sinking into the kiss.

“Every morning I wake up and you’re here is a good morning, Bren,” Spencer whispered as soon as the kiss broke, and Brendon’s eyes softened, his smile a little sad.

“I love you too, Spence,” he said meaningfully, stroking Spencer’s fuzzy cheek. “I’m okay now, though,” he said and Spencer groaned, pulling him into his chest hard, almost clinging rather than hugging.

“I know, Brendon, but it was only three weeks ago I wasn’t sure I had a husband anymore, don’t blame me for worrying about you.” He kissed the top of his head, sliding his hands down Brendon’s back, though he was care of where the healed wound was still sore on Brendon. “You’re my heart, Brendon Smith, and I almost lost you. Give me another three weeks and a few nights of not reliving it all and maybe I won’t worry so bad, okay?”

Brendon nodded, leaning back to look up at him. “You’re my heart too, Spencer, don’t ever forget that.”

Spencer shook his head, bumping their noses together sweetly. “Definitely not going to happen.”  
Spencer and Brendon shared smiles, heads bowed together.

“If you two are finished, I think somebody needs to set the table,” Ginger’s voice interrupted.

Brendon looked up, cheeks pink as he pulled away from Spencer, smiling bashfully. “Sorry,” he said, rushing to take the plates she held out to him.

Ginger smiled in amusement as he blushed in amongst the catcalls and teases from the table before turning to Spencer. “And you,” she said and Spencer yawned dramatically.

“Can’t, bad dreams, too tired.”

Brendon shot him a stern look. “Spence, I nearly died a few weeks ago and I’m well enough to set the table, don’t be lazy,” he said, putting down the last plate, only to turn and put his hands on his hips. “Set the damn table,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

Spencer just grinned. “Alright, alright, whatever you say, dear,” he said, going to take the plates his mother offered, though she was clearly fighting a laugh. “You’ve taught him well,” he teased and everybody laughed when Brendon and Ginger both glared at Spencer, though neither looked all that angry.

Ginger just chuckled. “He needs to be taught how to keep his husband in line,” she joked and Spencer snickered as he put the last plate down, only to catch Brendon’s hand as he walked past him.

“You never have to worry about that, dear, I’m already pretty much willing to do anything you ask of me, as pretty as you are,” he offered and Brendon just rolled his eyes and swatted at him.

“Oh shut up, Spencer Smith, just go sit down,” he said, glaring playfully when Spencer blew him a kiss. 

Once they were all seated, Spencer couldn’t help but thinking, as he looked around the table at his family, his friends, the people he loved most, that he might be a very lucky man. As his eyes settled on Brendon, he had to correct his thoughts.

There was no ‘might’, he _was_ a very lucky man.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/957616.html) feel free to comment either place.


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